


Wide Open Spaces

by secretsidgenowriter



Series: Wide Open Spaces [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Casual Sex, Developing Relationship, Fish out of Water, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Non hockey au, Pets, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-13 14:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: Pine Falls seems as quaint and charming as all the other small towns he passed through. The storefronts are bright and welcoming. A market, a pharmacy, a toy store. There’s a cafe with people sitting out on the patio, sipping their iced coffees and chatting and couples meandering down the sidewalk, holding hands and walking their dogs.It’s like something out of a movie.





	Wide Open Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> Big, big, BIG thanks to my beta, Icedbatik for helping me out with this. It would have been a mess without you. Also thanks to Dana for letting me get my ideas out and to the GC and everyone on tumblr for putting up with me while I complained for MONTHS while writing this. I truly feel like it was a team effort.

Zhenya looks away from the glowing screen of his laptop and rubs at his eyes.

It’s late and he’s spent the better part of the day staring at spreadsheets and memos and emails with condescending undertones. His eyes feel gritty, like someone has thrown sand in them. When he pulls his hands away, his vision blurs for a moment.

His mother always warned that one day he’d need glasses. He refuses to believe that now is the time.

“I could schedule an appointment for you to see the optometrist.”

Zhenya blinks as Mrs. Petrov comes into view. She’s standing by the open doorway with a cup of tea in her hands.

“I’m sure I could find some time in your day to squeeze in a visit.”

Zhenya shakes his head. Mrs. Petrov is an incredible assistant who has been working with him since day one and, while there is no doubt in his mind that she could find the time, he simply doesn’t want to afford it.

“I’m fine,” he tells her. “It’s late, why are you here?” Then, looking at the tea in her hands adds, “Is that for me?”

“I’m here because you might need something,” she pauses and raises the cup, “like tea.”

“You’re a wonderful woman,” Zhenya says on a sigh as he leans back in his chair. Mrs. Petrov laughs and crosses the distance between them.

While the rest of Zhenya’s peers were hiring pretty, young woman with shiny hair and tight skirts, Zhenya went in a different direction.

Mrs. Petrov was 50 years old when she applied to be Zhenya’s assistant. She retired from being a school teacher to raise her children and now that they were all off to college she needed something to keep her busy. She reminded Zhenya of his own mother, kind and warm, and the wounds of losing her had been so fresh that Zhenya couldn’t possibly say no.

Hiring her ended up being the best decision of Zhenya’s young career.

She is a phenomenal assistant who goes well beyond the call of duty on a daily basis. Zhenya feels like they’ve been working together long enough that she can practically read his mind, knowing exactly which calls to put through to him and which to forward to voicemail. She’s excellent at getting rid of unwanted visitors who happen to drop by without an appointment and she somehow manages to get him into all of his meetings on time.

She also makes an incredible cup of tea.

“I’m serious,” Zhenya says after he takes a long, satisfying sip. “Go home. I’m sure your husband misses you.”

“It’s poker night,” she says, “He won’t even know I’m gone.”

“If you need more money — ” Zhenya starts, but Mrs. Petrov waves him off.

“It’s not about the money, Mr. Malkin.”

“Zhenya, please.” They’re practically family. “Or at least call me Evgeni.”

“ _Mr. Malkin,”_ she repeats and Zhenya rolls his eyes. She is so much like his mother. Head strong and stuck in her ways. “I don’t need more money. Not everything is about money. I like my job. With my babies all grown it’s nice to have something to do with my time. It’s nice to be needed.”

“You are definitely needed,” Zhenya tells her. “I’d be lost without you.”

She smiles. “Mr. Gonchar called again,” she tells him and Zhenya sighs heavily.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“I’ve been telling him that but he keeps calling. This is the sixth time.”

“Let him call seven.”

“I don’t know why you’re like this. He’s so pleasant.”

Zhenya hides his smile around his cup of tea. Sergei is very nice, but he’s also an asshole and Zhenya knows he can handle anything that Zhenya dishes out.

“He’s a lawyer,” Zhenya says. “It’s his job to make people think that he’s pleasant. Plus it’s probably nothing important.”

More than likely it has something to do with Zhenya’s recently purchased apartment in the heart of Moscow. He’s sure he forgot to dot an I or cross a T on one of the many legal forms he had to sign. He’s sure that can wait.

He gets a kick out of making Sergei wait.

“Did he leave a message?”

“Just that you should call him. The next time he calls I’m putting him through. How much more work do you have? You look like you need some sleep.”

Zhenya shrugs. Sometimes it feels like the work will never be done. He has file after file of expense reports to comb through. Numbers mean next to nothing to him anymore.

“A few hours,” he lies and he knows she knows it. “Go home,” he tells her, “or at least order yourself some dinner. My treat.”

“Should I get something for you as well?”

“I’m not hungry,” he says, knowing she’ll just order something for him anyway. It’s fine. She knows what he likes.

Mrs. Petrov is barely back to her desk when her phone rings.

“Mr. Malkin’s office,” Zhenya hears her say followed by a long pause that she breaks when she says, “One moment please. Mr. Malkin?”

When Zhenya looks up she is standing in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Mr. Gonchar is on the phone again. He says it’s important. He says it’s about your grandmother.”

Zhenya’s eyes immediately slide over to his own phone and his heart pounds in his chest. He knows what this is. It could only be one thing. It’s the same feeling he felt when he got the call about his mother. He knew it before he even picked up the phone.

“Can you put him through?” Zhenya asks. He hates how shaky and weak his voice sounds, and he’s grateful when Mrs. Petrov doesn’t comment on it.

She simply nods and hurries back through the door. Her voice sounds miles away to Zhenya’s ears when she says, “One moment, Mr. Gonchar. I’ll put you right through.”

The ringing of his phone almost makes him jump.

“Sergei,” he says then clears his throat. “I’m —.”

“This is my seventh call,” Sergei tells him and Zhenya squeezes his eyes shut.

“I know, I know. I thought … I thought it was nothing. I thought it was about the apartment. I didn’t … you could have left a message with Mrs. Petrov.”

“I told her it was important. I thought that would be enough. I don’t know how much of your personal life you like to share with your assistant.”

Sergei doesn’t have the same relationship with his assistant that Zhenya has with Mrs. Petrov. They’re unflinchingly professional. Zhenya would be shocked if they even knew the names of Sergei’s children.

But Mrs. Petrov is allowed to know it all.

“What is it?” Zhenya asks even though he already knows. If he didn’t he would figure it out fast by the deep breath that Sergei takes.

“Your grandmother has passed away,” he says and Zhenya swallows and nods. “You were named in her will — actually, you’re the only person named in her will — and since all of your legal matters go through me first, her lawyer contacted me so I had to contact you.”

“When?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“How?”

“I’m told it was in her sleep. Very peaceful. I don’t believe she suffered.”

Zhenya nods. She was nearly 90, he thinks. Her birthday was in March, that he knows.

“When is the funeral?”

“Day after tomorrow. Do you want to know what’s written in the will?”

“Email it? Or fax it? I don’t know.”

“Are you all right?” Sergei asks then seems to catch himself. “I’m sorry for your loss. Were the two of you close?”

“We used to be,” Zhenya tells him. “Can you email me everything I need to know? I have to go, I have to — .”

“It’s already been sent,” Sergei tells him gently and Zhenya hears the soft ping of a new email alert come from his computer and phone at the same time. “Again, Zhenya, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Zhenya says and he means it. “I have to go.”

He hangs up before Sergei says anything else. Mrs. Petrov is standing in the doorway again, hands still folded together.

“Mr. Malkin,” she says softly and Zhenya takes a breath so deep it makes his chest ache.

“My grandmother died,” he says, just as softly, and he hears her gasp. “I have to go, I have to … can you clear my schedule? I have meetings but I have to …”

“I’ll take care of it,” she says quickly. “You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“I need a flight. I need a ticket to Canada.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

“And the return?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know.

“Okay,” Mrs. Petrov says. She’s closer now, with her hand on Zhenya’s shoulder, and Zhenya sags into her. She wraps her arm around his shoulder and pats his head. He closes his eyes and takes the comfort he hasn’t been given in too many years. “It’ll be all right, dear,” she says. “It'll be all right.”

—

Zhenya’s grandparents, Anton and Irina, moved to Canada when Zhenya was just a boy, but he can remember how hard he cried like it was only yesterday.

They said they needed cleaner air and more space. They were tired of the grit of the city. The smog and the miles of concrete. They tried to talk Zhenya’s mother into coming with them but Zhenya had school and his mother had a job and it seemed like so much, to just pick up and leave like that.

He remembers crawling onto Irina’s lap as she smoothed back his hair and promised to write and call and said that he would always be the most important person to the both of them. He remembers Anton trying to distract him with slight-of-hand magic tricks and his own mother taking him to the store to buy stationery to make his letters to them special.

He remembers how hard he held her hand as he watched his grandparents board the plane that would take them away and how his mother cried, too, but tried to hide it, as she said goodbye to her own parents.

His mother had picked him up and held him close as the plane rolled down the runway and took off. They were alone, their small family suddenly so much smaller.

They wrote letters back and forth for years. For a long while a new one would come every week. Irina would send photographs of the rolling hills behind the house or of the baby chicks that hatched in early spring. The horses covered in plaid blankets as snow covered the ground in the winter and the changing leaves in the autumn. Zhenya had never seen so many trees in his life.

Zhenya in turn would send them photo after photo of him running around the back yard or playing with the kitten his mother got for him so he wouldn’t feel so alone.

They talked about visiting Canada, but money was very tight and his mother had her job and it never worked out.

But the constant letters and the weekly phone calls were enough. They had to be.

Zhenya grew quickly, shooting up like a weed physically and coming into his own emotionally. He made new friends in school and joined clubs and sports teams. He fell in love with hockey and the letters to his grandparents slowly started to fall by the wayside.

They still wrote to him, a letter every week, but he often needed to be reminded by his mother to write back.

He often missed the phone calls, as well, too busy with practice or sleeping over at a friend’s house or out doing _god knows what._

Zhenya grew _up_. He graduated high school and got accepted to college and worked to find himself. In the course of finding himself he found himself with a boyfriend whom he fell in love with and who, in turn, broke his heart sophomore year when he abruptly ended it.

Distraught, Zhenya needed someone to talk to. Even though he was sure his mother would be understanding about his relationship with a man, he was terrified of what would happen if she wasn't. He couldn’t lose her, too.

So he made the long-distance call to Irina, who patiently listened while he poured his heart out over the phone.

She was quiet for a long moment, until Zhenya heard her say something to Anton, voice muffled like her hand was over the receiver.

Then she very clearly said to Zhenya, _“Darling, forget about that boy. We have a neighbor that would be perfect for you. He’s a good Canadian boy. Very nice and very sweet. He’s going to be a veterinarian when he graduates from school and I know how much you love animals. I’ll show him your picture the next time we see him.”_

Zhenya had laughed and cried and laughed a little more. He made plans to visit in the summer but he ended up getting an internship — one that would eventually set him on his career path — and then, during Zhenya’s senior year, Anton passed.

A lifelong smoker, his death didn’t come as much of a surprise but Zhenya still felt the sting of it. He couldn’t make it to the funeral — he was in the middle of finals and none of his professors was going to buy the _“dead grandfather in Canada”_ excuse, even if it was true.

He got a job shortly after graduation and was too busy trying to move up and make a good impression to cash in on his vacation time. He worked, constantly, and got promoted at a steady clip, and then his mother had the accident and all he wanted to do was work.

It’s been years since he’s been out of the country for anything other than work.

This certainly isn’t the way he wanted it to happen.

Mrs. Petrov was able to get him on the next flight out of Moscow, first class with plenty of legroom.

He should land at JFK by 4 in the morning, and then, after a 45-minute layover, get on a flight to Ottawa. After that it’s hopping from small airport hub to small airport hub, working his way closer to the interior of Ontario before finally renting a car and driving the rest of the way.

If everything goes as planned, he should be pulling into Pine Falls an hour before the funeral is supposed to start.

There are a lot of things that could go wrong. Flights could be delayed or missed. There could be a problem with his rental. His bags could go missing. He could hit traffic, if there even is any that far out. There is a lot to worry about.

For now though, all he can do is sip the drink the flight attendants keep bringing him and watch the clouds out the window.

-

His connecting flight to Ottawa is delayed by 30 minutes and the one after that to Thunderbay sets him back an additional 45, but after that it’s smooth sailing on tiny airplanes that are easily twice his age.

They catch turbulence like it’s their job and by the time he finally touches down for the last time he’s tense all over with what feels like permanent white knuckles. He’s actually looking forward to the five-hour drive in the 2015 Honda Accord he rents.

It ends up being a long and lonely drive out into the Canadian countryside.

He drives through towns with populations with only three digits and fields filled with cows or wheat that seem to go on forever. It’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, but it’s also big and empty and, by the time he pulls onto Main Street in the heart of Pine Falls, the jet lag has started to take over. He’s exhausted and his stomach is hurting from the cheap coffee and greasy fast food he picked up along the way. What he wants is a good night's rest and a cup of Mrs. Petrov’s tea. He should have brought her with him.

Pine Falls seems as quaint and charming as all the other small towns he passed through. The storefronts are bright and welcoming. A market, a pharmacy, a toy store. There’s a cafe with people sitting out on the patio, sipping their iced coffees and chatting and couples meandering down the sidewalk, holding hands and walking their dogs.

It’s like something out of a movie.

He stops at an intersection to let a little girl skipping along side her mother pass in front of him then follows the glitching GPS out of the center of town.

The back roads wind and curve through the countryside and it feels like Zhenya never has an opportunity to take his foot off the brake. Houses are few and far between — Zhenya passes one every few miles — and they’re set so far back in the woods that all he sees are weather-worn mailboxes at the end of dirt driveways.

After driving for nearly twenty five minutes, the GPS suddenly chirps to life, telling him he’s arrived at his destination. He slams on the brakes and braces himself against the steering wheel before looking in the rear view.

There’s a driveway a few yards back and he throws the car in reverse and rolls down the passenger-side window so he can see the numbers on the mailbox. _871._

He pulls down the drive and, after what feels like forever, the farmhouse finally comes into view.

Sitting at the top of the hill the house overlooks the surrounding land. Acre after acre of gently rolling fields with tall grasses that blow in the breeze. Horses dot the pastures and some of them lift their heads to watch the car as it pulls up the drive. There are 10 of them, or at least that’s what was listed in the will. Ten horses, a dozen chickens, 50 acres, three out buildings and whatever is left behind in the farm house now belongs to him. He has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do with any of it.

The house, while clearly not built to Zhenya’s tastes, is still beautiful. Painted a soft butter yellow with a wrap-around porch that looks out over the fields. Zhenya can just imagine his grandparents sitting on the old rocking chairs that are pointed to the west, watching the sunset together.

The front steps squeak as he hauls his suitcase behind him up to the front door. Sergei has been in touch with the overseer of the will and there is supposed to be a key hidden for him along the top of the door frame. He reaches up and drags his fingers across the wood until he finds it then sticks it in the lock. He needs to wiggle it a bit to get the door open and then the wood sticks, swollen in the late summer humidity, so he needs to put his full weight on it before it finally pops.

The inside looks how he would expect the home of a Russian grandmother to look. A little tacky, a little gaudy, but the bare bones of it are good. There are hardwood floors that don’t look half bad and a solid oak banister that lines the stairs up to the second floor. The ceilings and the walls — the part that he can see behind the dozens and dozens of framed photos — look strong and sturdy without any cracks. The appliances in the kitchen and the furniture in the living room are outdated but the square dining room table looks like something that Zhenya would pay good money for. It’s heavy and very clearly handmade and he knows that no matter what happens to the rest of the house, he’ll be taking this back to Russia with him. Somehow.

There’s a half bath off of the kitchen that makes Zhenya grimace. The sink is an ugly pink and the toilet is an ugly green, obviously installed in the ’70s or ’80s. There is a second, more modern, full bath upstairs along with a spare room that looks like it’s been mostly used for storage. And there’s the master bedroom.

The door is already open but he can’t make himself step inside.

There are sheets on the bed, jewelry and framed photos on the dresser and clothing hanging in the closet. He can see slippers peeking out from beneath the bed and a book on the nightstand with a bookmark wedged between the pages. It is exactly how his grandmother left it. Perfectly preserved. His grandparents built a life here together and, after his grandfather died, this is where his grandmother spent her years, all alone.

He blames the lingering dust in the air for how his eyes begin to water and he quickly shuts the door and drags his bag into the spare room.

From there he can see the barn out back along with the chicken coop and a shed a little farther down the property. They all look like they need a fresh coat of paint.

In front of the coop, a handful of hens are pecking at the ground while a large rooster scratches at the dirt.

Zhenya doesn’t know anything about chickens or horses. He doesn’t know anything about living in the country or taking care of an entire house and, with no one here to help him, he’ll have to figure it out on his own.

He sighs and hefts his suitcase up onto the bed. There's no give to the mattress and he already knows that he’ll wake up with a sore back tomorrow.

With a heavy sigh he unzips his suitcase and pulls out his wrinkled suit.

The church is small and crowded and hot, with what must be the entire population of the town packed into the pews.

His dress shirt sticks to his back in a thin line of sweat while strangers sniff and dab at their eyes with tissues beside him. One by one, people go up to the podium to say a few words. They all have a story to tell — it seems like Irina touched the life of every person in this town. She helped out with all the charities around town, baking cakes and pies or knitting hats and mittens. Whatever she needed to do, she did it.

She apparently was an amazing babysitter.

“I feel like she helped raise me,” one young woman says. She’s holding a baby in her arms and bouncing him gently. She opens her mouth to say something else but all that comes out is a quiet sob and she’s quickly ushered away by a man who Zhenya assumes is her husband.

More and more people go up and tell their story, but Zhenya stays seated. He can’t go up. He doesn’t have much to say.

Irina was his grandmother and he loved her, but he didn’t know her like these people did. They were all a part of this community together and he is just a name that’s on her will.

After the service people move around him like a rock in the river. They barely even look at him. It’s like they all know he basically ignored both his grandparents for all those years and now it looks like he’s only come back to claim the inheritance. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and he feels like turning tail and running when there’s a tap on his shoulder as someone clears their throat behind him.

The man is around Zhenya’s age with short black hair and hazel eyes. He looks incredibly handsome in his suit, which looks impeccably well tailored over his broad shoulders and down to his slim waist.

“Are you Evgeni?” he asks, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation and Zhenya nods.

“Is Geno, for English,” Zhenya says.

“Geno,” the man repeats. “I’m Sid. I live down the road from your grandparents. Or I lived down the road,” he says with a wince. “I still can’t believe they’re both gone. I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.”

He sounds so sympathetic and so sincere and Zhenya really should appreciate this bout of kindness, since it’s likely to be the only one he gets, but he can’t seem to stop staring at the deep red of Sid’s full lips or the way the fabric of his dress pants stretches across his thighs.

Zhenya’s pretty sure he’s just punched his ticket to hell because they’re still standing in the middle of the church, but all he can think about is how good this guy smells and how sharp his jawline and cheekbones are.

When Sid extends his hand, Zhenya eagerly takes it and absolutely delights in the way they fit together.

“If you need anything,” Sid says, looking at him earnestly, “just give me a call or drop by. I’ll be happy to help out.”

Zhenya can think of one or two things that he’d love Sid to help him with but, before anything is actually verbalized, a little girl with long, brown hair collides into the back of Sid’s leg.

Sid pulls his hand away and puts it on top of the girls head and she stares up at him.

“We’re hungry,” she says. “We’re ready to eat.”

“I’ll be right there,” Sid says gently. “Where’s your mom?”

“Estelle.”

All three of their heads turn toward the sound of the voice and Zhenya spots a pretty woman with the same long, brunette hair holding a toddler in her arms. The little girl that has wrapped herself around Sid’s legs lets him go and runs over to the woman. They make a beautiful family, the three of them and Sid.

Zhenya steps away.

“Thank you,” he says with a nod to Sid. “Should be going. Have a lot of work to do.”

—

Zhenya’s second impression of the house is that it needs more work than he first thought.

There’s wallpaper that needs to be stripped off and the windows should really be replaced with ones that are more efficient and actually hold in the heat in the winter.

He’ll also need to make some hard decisions about all of her belongings. The photo albums and anything that seems personal will come back with him but everything else … the coats in the closet and the figurines in the china cabinet? Where do those go? How does he know what meant something to her and what didn’t? What if he’s giving away something that’s been in his family for generations? He doesn’t have any family left. He doesn’t want to put something into a donation box that is special and personal and worth hanging on to.

He rubs at his temples and moans when the ache in his head immediately gets worse. He needs some Advil and a good night's rest. Barring that, he’ll take a drink.

There’s only orange juice and a carton of milk with a questionable expiration date in the fridge but tucked behind a bag of peas in the freezer he finds a bottle of vodka.

“Good woman,” Zhenya says softly as he pulls out the bottle. The heat of his fingers melts the frost on the outside of the glass. When he closes the freezer door a piece of paper stuck to the front with a magnet flutters and catches his attention.

On lavender stationery and in his grandmother’s handwriting are instructions for the animals.

She had written down how much grain and hay to give the horses and how much feed for the chickens. Apparently there’s a rooster it’s important that he doesn’t turn his back on and a couple of barn cats that need to come in when the weather starts getting colder.

At the bottom, underlined three times, are the words _“Don’t let Magic get away with anything.”_

He doesn’t know what that means but he has a feeling that it's good advice.

Zhenya takes a couple of swigs straight from the bottle then sets up shop on the lumpy couch in the living room so he can flip through a couple of photo albums.

The photos are recent, taken in various spots around town with various townspeople. He recognizes a few of them from the funeral, including Sid, looking much, much younger, with his arms slung around a couple of guys. There are woods behind them and a campfire in front of them and all three are smiling at the camera.

Zhenya takes another sip from the bottle and keeps flipping through the album.

When the sun starts to hang low in the sky he goes out to feed the animals.

The chickens are fairly easy. Most of them are in the coop before he even gets out there and the rest hurry up the ramp as soon as they see Zhenya approaching. The rooster, Tyson according to the note, makes a run at him, unhappy that a stranger is so close to the hens. Zhenya screams and runs, which might be the wrong thing but it’s the only thing he can think to do. He ends up by the fence where the horses have gathered to watch him before Tyson turns around and struts into the chicken coop. Zhenya is quick to close the gate then takes a deep breath to calm himself down before he sets out for the barn.

The horses don’t seem to be anything special. They’re all mostly old and slow and don’t pay him any mind as they head into their stalls.

The only one that stops and acknowledges him is an all-black pony that barely comes up to Zhenya’s waist and won’t stop nosing at his back pockets.

“Nothing for you there,” Zhenya says as he gently pushes his head back toward the feed bucket.

He locks the stall doors then chains the sliding outer doors together and heads back to the house.

He finds some stale Cheerios in the cabinet and eats them with the almost sour milk. He washes it down with the orange juice and another swing of vodka before he returns the bottle to the freezer.

He has a gentle buzz going when he sits back down on the couch and he doesn’t make it very far into the next photo album before the exhaustion of crossing the globe catches up with him and he falls asleep.

He wakes to a loud ringing sound with the early morning light falling across his face. He had fallen asleep on the open photo album and the plastic sticks to his cheek when he tries to sit up.

With a groan he reaches for his phone on the coffee table but, when he picks it up, the screen is black, even as the ringing continues.

Blearily, he realizes it’s the land line ringing on the wall in the kitchen and with a sigh he picks himself up off the couch and stumbles out of the living room. His hand slaps against the wall and his fingers tangle in the cord as he pulls the handset off the receiver.

“Yes?” he mumbles as he leans heavily against the counter.

“Hi, Geno?” The voice is vaguely familiar but Zhenya is still half asleep and he can’t place it. “I think Magic must have gotten out on you last night because I found him nosing around my back deck this morning.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zhenya says, voice thick with sleep and his brain not connecting the dots.

“This is Sidney Crosby. I’m right down the road from you. We met yesterday at the funeral?”

Zhenya stands up a little straighter. He remembers Sid.

“Magic is the little one, you know, the pony? All black, has a huge attitude.”

“Oh, shit,” Zhenya says, snapping all the way awake in panic. He drags the phone as far as the cord will take him and peers out the back door. The barn doors are still chained together but they’ve both been pushed to one side, the opening just big enough for the pony to slip out. “He got out?” Zhenya asks. “He’s loose?”

“He’s fine,” Sid says. “He’s completely fine. I’ve got him in the paddock out front. He’s not going anywhere.”

“I come get him,” Zhenya says. “Right now. Be right there.”

“There’s really no reason to rush. He’s perfectly happy here and I don’t mind at all.”

“No, I come get. Where are you?”

“Take a left out of the driveway. I’m the next house. You can’t miss it.”

Zhenya hangs up without saying goodbye and flies out of the house.

The next house is at least a half-mile away, a long way to run in his dress shoes and suit, and his heart feels like it’s going to give out by the time he finally turns at the mailbox at the end of Sid’s driveway.

As promised, Magic is in the front paddock with his head down, eating grass. He chews lazily as he looks up at Zhenya as if to say _you finally found me, took you long enough_ , and it’s enough for Geno to start swearing at him in Russian between the deep, heaving breaths he needs to take. Magic’s ears prick forward and lifts his head like he understands and Zhenya has to stop and laugh.

“Yes, I bet you’ve heard this all before.”

Zhenya is just about to open the paddock gate and head back to Irina’s when the screen door of the house opens and Sid steps out.

He’s swapped the suit for faded jeans and a black henley and he stops at the edge of the porch stairs, his feet covered in thick, grey socks. He looks just as good as he did the day before. Possibly, unbelievably, even better.

“Thank you,” Zhenya calls up to him. “Know I locked him in last night. Not sure how this happen. So sorry if he bother you.”

Sid waves his hand. “It’s fine. Magic is special. He can get out of anything.”

“Even closed doors.”

“Some horses are smart like that. They figure out that if they kick the same spot over and over again the latch on the door will start to move. Then he pushed the front doors to the side — he doesn’t need much room. Then he probably slipped out through a break in the fence. I know they’re not all up.”

“He’ll do again then?”

“It’s possible.” Sid rakes his eyes up and down Zhenya’s body and Zhenya feels exposed, bare all over. “It’s early. Do you want to come in for some coffee? I just put on a pot, it should be done in a few minutes.”

Magic has lost interest in both of them and is back to eating grass on the opposite side of the paddock.

Zhenya nods and starts toward the house.

It’s a beautiful home. A picture-perfect example of what a farmhouse should be with bright white paint and a sturdy front porch. There’s a porch swing and a couple of wicker chairs. A pair of mud-covered boots sit near the door.

Sid opens the front door (stained in a beautiful, deep mahogany to stand out against the white) and bends down to catch a wiggly golden retriever puppy.

“Sorry,” Sid says as the puppy squirms in his arms trying to get to Zhenya, who is trying to toe off his shoes without untying them. “He’s still just a baby. Everything is exciting.”

“Is okay,” Zhenay says as he finally gets his shoe off. “Cute. He have name?”

“I’ve been calling him Timmy, you know, like Tim Horton’s, but I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Cute,” Zhenya says again as he reaches out to pet Timmy. Timmy presses his head into Zhenya’s palm, fur still baby soft. “I like it.”

“As soon as I put him down he’s going to jump all over you,” Sid says, tucking Timmy under his arm as he leads Zhenya farther into the house.

It’s cozy and warm, with simple decorations and tons of natural hardwood.

“Were you still asleep when I called?” Sid asks as he steps into the kitchen. It’s filled with natural light and stainless steel appliances. “Sorry to wake you.” He nods to the table, which looks like a well-kept antique, and Zhenya sits down.

“Not your fault pony too smart. This happen a lot? You act like is no big deal.”

“It’s been a while,” Sid says. He tries to pull a second mug down from the cabinet but it’s hard to do with Timmy licking at his face. “I gotta put him down. Brace yourself.”

As soon as Timmy’s feet hit the floor he scrambles toward Zhenya then paws at his legs to be picked up. Zhenya buries his hands in his fur to placate him.

“Honestly, I think Magic just missed your grandmother. He was her favorite. He probably went looking for someone familiar. I’ve been looking after them for the last few days, so he came here.”

“You’ve been looking after?”

Sid nods. “Who did you think has been feeding them?”

Zhenya shakes his head. He hadn’t really thought anything at all. “I don’t know. I just …” He trails off.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate right now,” Sid says as he grabs the second mug. “Maybe some coffee will help. How do you take it?”

“Cream and sugar,” Zhenya says as Timmy scurries away, only to return a moment later with a rope toy that he pushes into Zhenya’s hand.

“Timmy, leave him alone, bud,” Sid says. He has two mugs in his hands and he kicks a tennis ball free from beneath the cabinet and sends it down the hallway. Timmy immediately runs after it, tripping over his feet as he goes.

With Sid’s back turned Zhenya makes a more careful inspection of the house and finds it a little odd that there’s only one set of shoes by the back door and one coat hanging in the hall. There are no kids toys strewn about, no drawings or schoolwork on the fridge.

“Geno?”

Zhenya tears his eyes away from the empty fridge and looks up at Sid who is standing there with a steaming mug of coffee for him.

“You okay?” Sid asks and Zhenya nods and takes the mug.

Heat seeps through the ceramic into his hands as he wraps his fingers around it. “Will the family be up soon?” Sid’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“See you with daughter yesterday at funeral … wife, too. Very pretty.”

Sid’s mouth opens slightly as he narrows his eyes. “Do you mean Estelle and Vero?”

Zhenya shrugs and Sid laughs.

“No,” Sid says. “That’s not my family. Vero is married to a buddy of mine. Estelle and Scarlett are their kids. I’m just … I don’t know … a fun uncle.”

“So you not married? No kids?”

Sid shakes his head. “It’s just me. And well, Timmy’s here, too.”

At the sound of his name Timmy comes tearing back into the kitchen, skidding out and bumping into Sid’s shin.

“Is not so bad,” Zhenya says as he takes his first sip and Sid smiles and bends down to pet Timmy.

“Nah, not so bad at all.” Sid sits down at the table across from him and Zhenya notices the morning stubble across Sid’s jaw. It suits him and Zhenya wants to reach out and touch, to feel the scratch of it against his fingertips.

Instead, he catches Sid’s eye and looks down into his coffee, cheeks warming at the idea of being caught.

“Guess I should fix fences before more get out. You have 10 horses in yard instead of just one. Maybe I should just sell them before they get a chance.”

Sid’s jaw sets. “You’re going to sell them?”

Geno taps his fingers against the mug. “Don’t know what else to do. Not like they’re racehorses. Can’t invest, can’t make money. Going to sell the whole thing. House should go fast once I fix it up a bit and all that land … 50 acres is 25 houses, at least. Good money in that.”

“Not everything is about money,” Sid says flatly then seems to catch himself and shakes his head. “Sorry. That was out of line. This is your house and your land and your business. I’m really sorry.”

An awkward silence passes over them as they sip their coffee and, for the first time, Zhenya notices the writing on the opposite side of his mug. He turns it around to read _Vet School — It’s Like Med School, Only Harder_ printed in black ink.

“You a vet?” Zhenya asks and remembers something that his grandmother had said years ago.

_We have a neighbor that would be perfect for you … he’s going to be a veterinarian._

“Think my grandmother talked to me about you,” Zhenya says and Sid looks up. “She tried to set us up on date.”

Sid laughs and nods. “Yeah, that was me. She used to show me pictures of you.”

“She said you were very nice and very sweet.”

Sid ducks his head. “She told me you were tall and very successful.”

“Well, she was right,” Zhenya says and Sid smiles so hard his eyes crinkle around the edges. Zhenya might not have known his grandmother all that well but she knew his exact type. “Surprised she had a picture of me.”

“It was an older one. I think from your graduation maybe.” He squints at Zhenya. “You still look the same, though. A little bit more grown but still … it's how I knew it was you at the funeral.”

“Never saw a picture of you.”

“She wanted to send one but I wouldn’t let her get a good shot. She said I’d just have to wait to see you in person.”

“She thought I would visit,” Zhenya says softly. “Never did, not a good grandson.”

“It’s not like Russia is exactly close. It’s a big trip.”

He doesn’t have it in him to admit that he could have taken time off whenever he wanted. “Probably just as well,” he says. “I see your picture, I would have dropped everything to come running.”

Sid’s eyes flash up to his and Zhenya feels hot under the collar.

“Should go,” he says. “Have to get back and feed horses. Figure out how to fix fence.” And then figure out everything else. “Thank you for coffee and finding Magic. Try not to let it happen again.”

“It’s all right if it does,” Sid says softly and then adds “don’t be a stranger.”

Zhenya’s out the door and halfway across the lawn when he hears the door open behind him again.

“Hey,” Sid calls and Zhenya turns around. Sid has his hands jammed into his front pockets and he’s rocking forward on his toes. “If you need help with anything … the house or the fences or the horses, before you do … whatever it is you’re going to do with the place. Just let me know, I’ll be happy to help. Just give me a call or drop by. I’m almost always here.”

Zhenya nods. “You’re sure?”

Sid looks him over again, eyes dragging slowly from Zhenya’s feet, up his legs and chest until they finally land on his face.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

-

Zhenya drops the nearly empty wrapping paper tube back into the box and sticks his head out of the guest room window. Magic is still in the pasture, attempting to shove two horses out of the way like the grass they’re eating is somehow sweeter than what he’s been nibbling on a few feet away.

While Magic and the other horses were eating breakfast in their stalls, Zhenya walked the fence line looking for his way out. There are definitely weak points that need to be fixed but he couldn’t find a clear spot for him to slip out, which really, makes Magic’s disappearing act all the more impressive.

He figures that with a full belly and the rest of the horses out in the fields with him Magic probably won’t be looking to make a break for it and as long as Zhenya checks on him every five minutes or so, the fencing can wait.

What cannot wait is the cleaning of the bedroom because he cannot spend another night sleeping on the couch.

He cleared the bed off and has fresh sheets airing out on the clothesline outside but, aside from that, it’s been slow going. He doesn’t want to say that his grandparents were hoarders but they certainly managed to accumulate a lot of things. He’ll probably need to rent a dumpster to get rid of it all. Hopefully one can be delivered up the winding back roads to the house.

He takes a deep breath and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Even with the windows wide open and the ceiling fan going full speed, the air throughout the house is thick and soupy with humidity. His T-shirt is clinging uncomfortably to his body and he’s hating himself for not throwing a pair of shorts in his bag with him because the denim of his jeans is way too heavy on his legs, even with the various rips and tears going up his thighs.

He’s thinking about taking everything off and working in only his boxers when he hears the front door open and close downstairs and then “Geno, are you here?”

Zhenya finds Sid standing at the bottom of the stairs.

He’s swapped the henley for a red polo shirt with _Pine Falls Veterinary Care_ stitched over the breast pocket. He has boots on his feet and a baking dish covered with aluminum foil in his hands and, when Zhenya starts down the stairs, Sid tips his face up, revealing sunburned cheeks beneath the brim of the black baseball hat on his head. He looks great and Zhenya wishes he didn’t look like so much of a sweaty slob right now.

“Sorry, I let myself in,” Sid says as he takes his hat off with his free hand and runs his fingers through his messy hair. He’s shaved and Zhenya likes seeing his face but he misses the stubble. “But the door was unlocked … guess it’s just habit at this point. I was just at the Fleurys’ checking in on their goats and Vero made a casserole for you.” He holds the dish out and Zhenya takes it. It’s still warm. “She figured you probably didn’t have much food in the house. It’s twice-baked potato. It has potatoes and cheese and bacon … you eat all that, right?”

Zhenya nods. “Potatoes, cheese and bacon are best foods.” He had eggs for breakfast, picked straight from the coop, and while they were the tastiest and freshest eggs he’s had in a long time, he doesn’t want to be eating them for every meal. He really needs to get into town and find a grocery store. “You have time to stay and have some?”

Sid looks over his shoulder out the front door. “I left the truck running because I’ve got Timmy with me … is it okay if I bring him in?”

“Don’t know,” Zhenya says as he sets the dish down on the kitchen table so he can grab plates and silverware. “A puppy might mess something up.”

“Oh,” Sid says sounding genuinely disappointed and Zhenya rolls his eyes as he puts the plates down.

“Kidding, Sid. Look around. Whole place is a disaster. A puppy could only make it better. Go get him.”

Sid nods and turns around and Zhenya leans far over the side of the kitchen table to watch him go. He washes his hands while Sid’s gone, taking an opportunity to look out the kitchen window to make sure Magic is still out there. He is.

“How were goats?” Zhenya asks over his shoulder when he hears Sid’s come back into the house.

“They’re fine,” Sid answers. “It was only their annual check up.”

Zhenya dries his hands on a dishtowel and turns around to find Sid holding a sleeping Timmy in his arms like a baby, head tilted back and ears flopped out behind him. It’s adorable and Zhenya is so very weak for it.

“How’s he so sleepy?” Zhenya whispers, like he’s afraid he’s going to wake him up.

“I think he met his match with Estelle and Scarlett. They ran him pretty ragged. There’s nothing better than a sleeping puppy.”

“Give me baby, Sid,” Zhenya says and Sid smiles as he shifts Timmy into his waiting arms.

Timmy grunts and wiggles, getting comfortable in the cradle of Zhenya’s arms before he settles back down. “You take him everywhere with you?” Zhenya asks as Sid turns on the faucet.

“Yeah. I’m going to. My other dog passed away a few months ago and she went everywhere with me. I didn’t think I was ready for another but then someone in town took in a stray that happened to be pregnant. When she let me have first pick of the puppies I just couldn’t say no.”

“How could you ever? Magic is still inside fence, yes?”

Sid peers out the window and nods. “I think he’s chasing a bee … did you find where he got out?”

“No. Could be anywhere. Should all be fixed. Add it to the list.”

“I thought you were selling them?”

“You know,” Zhenya says, “could take time to find them all homes. Lots of horses. So many. Why so many?”

Sid laughs and picks up the serving spoon. He dishes out a few scoops of casserole onto Zhenya’s plate. It’s still steaming and smells delicious. “That’s just how Irina was. Anton loved them, too, I know he did. But she was the driving force behind all that. If she heard someone in town needed to rehome their horse, she’d offer to take them. Every once in a while she’s send Anton off to the auction to find the saddest looking one to bring home. She never went. She said she didn’t have the heart for it. Plus I think she would have brought every one of them home with her.”

“Nice of her to stop at ten.”

“Oh, this is nothing. Since I’ve been living here there’s been goats and donkeys and I think at some point a couple of dairy cows. But that was before I got here. What’s left is manageable.”

Zhenya laughs. “Says you.”

“You’ll be all right,” Sid says as he dishes out his own serving and sits down. “I promise.”

“Have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Well, they all survived the night, didn’t they? That’s something.”

“One ran away and how many more nights? How long can I last? She left me instructions but it was more short term. What happens next?”

“How long are you planning on staying?”

“Until house is fixed.”

“Not to tell you what to do, but you could sell the house as is. Someone would buy it.”

Zhenya nods and looks around. He’s sure Sid is right. Houses that are practically falling over are bought and sold every day. Compared to them this house is a castle.

“I know,” Zhenya says. “But I think maybe this is something I have to do. Didn’t see my grandparents after they move, maybe this is best way to get to know them. Can paint walls and figure out how to sand floors but animals … much harder.”

“I can help with that,” Sid says. “Good news is that they’re all up on their vaccinations so you won’t have to worry about that. Their feet will have to be trimmed soon. You’re going to want to call Horny for that.”

Zhenya looks up.

“Hornqvist. Patric. We call him Horny. His number is in their phone book. He’s the farrier. You’ve got enough grain, hay, shavings and chicken feed to last you for a while but, when you run out, all you have to do is tell the people down at the feed store that you’re Irina’s grandson. She’s been getting the same thing from them for years. They’ll know exactly what you need.”

Zhenya nods. He feels like he should be writing this down.

“You can get fence posts at the feed store, too. Is that your Honda out there?”

Zhenya nods again. “Is rental.”

“I have a truck you can borrow. It’s nothing fancy but it’ll get you in and out of town. It’s better for hauling fence posts around. Can you drive a stick?”

“Was what I learned to drive on.”

“Good. I keep it around the back of the house by the barn. Keys are in the glove compartment. You can stop by and take it whenever you want, even if I’m not home.”

“You not worried about people stealing it?”

“Ha, no. You’ll understand as soon as you see it but anyone that wanted to steal it would be doing me a favor. It gets the job done, though.”

“Going to need more clothes. None of my shoes good for farm.”

“Anton had a pair of work boots that Irina kept, and I know some of his jackets and stuff are up in their closet.”

Zhenya shakes his head. He found the boots on the stairs going down to the basement and they didn’t fit. As for the jackets … he’s still not ready to go into Irina’s bedroom. “Too small,” he says. “Have to get new.”

“Cullen and Sons. You’ll find everything you need, especially with the weather about to turn. If you’re going to do anything with the fences you should do it soon. As soon as the ground freezes, you won’t be getting a fence post in the ground until spring.”

Zhenya really doesn’t expect to be here that long, but the list of things he needs to do and remember just keeps growing. It’s starting to feel like he’ll be stuck here forever.

“Are you okay?” Sid asks softly and Zhenya looks down at his plate then farther down to the puppy in his arms.

He doesn't want this. Small town life isn’t something he ever aspired to. That was his grandparents choice, not his own.

“Am fine,” he says. “Just a lot of work.”

“You’ll get it done,” Sid tells him and Zhenya has to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. “If you need help, I’m right next door.”

“Don’t want to take up so much of your time. You have important job.”

“Yeah, but I don’t work regular hours. I have some down time every now and then. I was still pretty young when I moved to town. I was alone for the first time, I was in school… Anton and Irina pretty much took me under their wing. I spent a lot of time in this house. I’d like to … I don’t know. Make sure it’s at it’s best. Unless you think you won’t need help.”

“No, no,” Zhenya says as he sticks his fork into the casserole. “Definitely going to need help.”

-

The first thing Zhenya does when he wakes up in the morning is look out the window at the barn.

The double doors are pushed to one side of the track they hang on, creating _just enough_ space for a pony to slip through.

“Fucking horse,” Zhenya says with a shake of his head.

“You noticed something was missing,” Sid asks when he answers the phone. Zhenya twists the phone cord around his fingers and leans against the counter.

“I put chain around his door last night and he still broke out.”

“How’d you secure it?”

“One of those little clip things. Like for mountain climbing.”

“A carabiner? I bet he snapped that right off. Good idea though.”

“I tried,” Zhenya says around a yawn as he wraps his arm around his middle. It’s chilly in the house and he eyes the fireplace in the living room. How much work would it take to get that going? “You in hurry or can you keep him for a few minutes? Want to feed rest of horses, let out chickens. Can bring you eggs.”

“Take your time. My first appointment isn’t until ten.”

Zhenya wraps the eggs carefully in dish towel then places them in a wicker basket. Then he wraps himself up in the jacket Sid gave him and starts down the driveway.

There’s dew on the grass and fog hanging right above the ground and the leaves on the trees are just beginning to change color.

Autumn is right around the corner, even though he knows he’ll be wishing the house had central air before noon.

Sid’s outside in the yard, leaning against the paddock, when Zhenya comes up his drive. He takes a long drink from the mug in his hand as he watches Timmy, who is seated at his feet, stare at Magic.

Magic doesn’t seem to care at all as he steps forward and pushes his nose against Sid’s hip. Timmy tenses and leans to the side into Sid’s shin before he relaxes.

“Good boy,” he hears Sid say and Timmy perks up. “Good boy, atta boy. Come on.” Sid whistles as he backs up and Timmy scrambles to his feet to follow him back to the deck. There, Sid picks up a second mug and holds it out to Zhenya.

“Trade you,” Sid says as he takes the basket full of eggs. “Did I make it right?”

Zhenya takes a sip and hums in response. It’s warm and sweet and, even though he prefers tea, this is pretty much perfect.

Of course, it could have something to do with the stubble covering Sid’s jaw or the way the early morning light makes his eyes flash gold. Sid could have handed him lukewarm mud and he would happily drink it if it meant he got to stay here a little while longer, watching Magic graze while Timmy runs around in circles in the dew-soaked grass.

—

After Zhenya brings Magic home, he takes a shower, hot and long enough that his fingertips begin to wrinkle beneath the spray. Then makes a passable breakfast of scrambled eggs and tea from the ancient box that he found in the back of one of the cabinets.

By the time he was ready to go it was well after ten and, even though Sid said it was okay for him to borrow the truck whenever, he still feels a little odd about stepping onto his property without him there.

The truck is around back, parked next to a beautiful barn with bright white trim.

The truck, on the other hand, has clearly seen better days.

It looks to be more rust than paint and, when Zhenya opens the passenger side door to get to the glove box to find the keys, he has to pull so hard he’s almost afraid the door will fall off in his hands.

He has to physically crank down the window, necessary with no working AC; the brakes squeak; and he stalls three times before he finally pulls into an open spot in front of Cullen and Sons — impossible to miss with the huge, hand-painted sign out front.

A bell above the door chimes when he walks in and the man behind the counter doesn’t even look up when he greets Zhenya with a _“Hey, morning.”_

He’s older but clearly still strong and lean beneath the form-fitting long-sleeved T-shirt he’s wearing. His hair is long enough to curl beneath the backwards cap he’s wearing.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asks. When he looks up, Zhenya can see that his eyes are very blue.

“Sid said to come here,” Zhenya says as he inches out of the doorway toward the counter.

“Sid?” He asks and when Zhenya nods the man nods as well and looks him over slowly. “Yeah,” he says to himself, “that makes sense.” He clears his throat and leans over the counter. “I’m Matt. Nice to meet you. What exactly do you need?”

“Everything,” Zhenya says and Matt raises his eyebrows. “Not very prepared. Need clothes, shoes. Anything you think I need.”

“I can definitely help you out with that.  Do you have a budget?” Matt asks as Zhenya follows him around, past the camping section and toward the shoes.

“No budget,” Zhenya says and Matt huffs a laugh.

Over his shoulder he says, “I like you. Sid has good taste.”

Zhenya doesn’t know what that means but, based on everything he’s seen, he’s sure that it’s true.

Turns out Matt Cullen is gregarious and it's not long before Zhenya knows quite a bit about him, including that he also answers to "Cully" or "Dad" — the latter having less to do with his age than his three sons.

“They’re all crazy,” he says as Zhenya sticks his foot into a work boot and stands up. “You’re lucky they’re at school or else they’d be all over you, asking you a million questions about Russia. How’s the toe feel?”

“Heavy.”

“It’s supposed to be heavy. It’s all comfort and style until you accidentally jab yourself with a pitchfork. You need a size bigger or smaller? I have more in the back.”

After the shoes, he gets two coats, thick and waterproof and insulated. There are hats and gloves and socks and jeans that don’t have holes in them.

“It must be nice to have so many kids,” Zhenya says as he hands over his credit card. “Someone for sure take over business.”

“I don’t know,” Matt says as he swipes the card. “They’re still so young, they’re going a million different directions. I don’t know if any of them will ever be interested enough to actually take over.”

“What happens if they don’t?”

Matt shrugs and gathers up all of Zhenya’s bags. “Then they don’t. They do something else and my wife and I still retire somewhere warm. Nothing is ever awful as long as your kids are happy, you know?”

Zhenya hums and takes the bags.

His next stop is at the small hardware store, where a guy who introduces himself as Bryan (even though his coworkers all call him Rusty) helps him find fence post and wire that he promises will be strong enough to keep Magic in. Then he grabs a few packing essentials, cardboard boxes, heavy-duty tape and bubble wrap. By the time he hauls everything up to the checkout, he’s grateful for Sid’s old, rusted out truck. There’s no way he would have been able to fit even a quarter of this into his rental.

The market is next.

He picks up a bag of apples and carrots. If he doesn’t eat them, the horses will. He gets some chicken — and feels a little weird about it now that he’s taking care of some — and ground beef.

He’s in the dairy department when a clerk, whose name tag reads Jared, assures him that everything is fresh and local.

“I just think everything tastes better when you know the name of the cow, you know?”

“Guess so,” Zhenya tells him and thinks about the fresh eggs he’s been eating. Maybe Jared has a point. He grabs a quart of milk and a block of cheese and drops them into the basket.

He’s backing out of the spot in front of the market when he hears the chirp of a police siren. When he looks in his rear view, he sees flashing blue lights.

He swears and pulls all the way back into the spot. Then he turns off the car and puts both hands on the wheel.

An officer in a clean black uniform steps up to the driver’s side window and leans his arms against it. There’s a red maple leaf stitched above the right pocket on the shirt with a pin underneath that reads K. Letang.

Zhenya looks up at him and catches his reflection in the mirrored lenses of Officer Letang’s aviators. He wills himself not to look so nervous. He didn’t do anything wrong.

“Everything okay?” Zhenya asks, very aware of another officer getting out of the patrol car and coming up the passenger side. He’s a little gangly, with dark hair that threatens to flop over onto his forehead if he doesn’t keep it pushed back. When he takes his place at the passenger-side window, Zhenya can see that he has the same maple leaf stitched on his shirt but he’s too far away for Zhenya to read his name.

“License and registration?” Officer Letang asks and Zhenya pushes his hips up to grab his wallet out of his back pocket. He hands it to the officer, who slides his sunglasses up to the top of his head before he rolls his eyes and flips it open. Then Zhenya pops open the glove compartment and digs around, pushing wads of paper napkins and unopened plastic straws out of the way. For a man who keeps his house so tidy, this truck is a mess.

Zhenya finally finds the registration tucked all the way in the back, inside a small blue folder, and hands that over as well.

“Is everything okay?” Zhenya asks again, keeping his hands firmly on the wheel.

“Is this your truck?” Officer Letang asks and Zhenya shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “Is — ”

“You know this truck was reported stolen this morning?” Zhenya blinks at him.

“What? No, no, not stolen. I borrow. From Sid. Sid Crosby. Is vet. Very nice, he let me borrow to come into town. We neighbors … kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I don’t live there. Is not my house. Well, is my house, but I don’t live there.”

“Sir, have you been drinking?”

“No!” Zhenya shouts and Officer Letang raises an eyebrow.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

“Am calm,” Zhenya says loudly then clears his throat and starts again. “Am calm. Am just saying Sid let me borrow. Not steal. Listen, am Irina’s grandson. You know Irina and Anton?”

“I know who you are,” Officer Letang says as he taps Zhenya’s wallet against the open window. “I saw your license, remember?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says with a nod. “I remember. So, know who I am, know I would never steal.”

“I don’t know about that,” Letang says. “You’re driving a stolen truck right now.”

“Is not stolen,” Zhenya whines and the other officer starts to laugh.

“All right, Tanger, I think he’s had enough.”

“Oh, come on,” Letang says back. “It was just getting good. I was just about to ask him to step out of the vehicle.”

“What is happening?” Zhenya asks and Officer Letang holds out his hand for Zhenya to shake.

“Kristopher Letang,” he says then nods across the truck to his partner.

“Marc-Andre Fleury,” he says and Zhenya lets go of Letang’s hand.

“Fleury,” Zhenya repeats. “Goats,” Zhenya says and both Letang and Fleury startle. “Goats, you have goats. Sid told me. Your wife made me a casserole, very good, you very lucky. Tell her thanks for me, okay?”

“A casserole?” Letang says. “Fuck, Flower. I thought we had an agreement.”

“Vero is her own person. She makes her own rules.”

“What agreement?” Zhenya asks and Letang sighs.

“We want to make sure you’re not a douche,” Letang says bluntly.

“Car is not stolen?”

“Nah,” Letang says with a wave of his hand. “We know Sid’s always offering up this rust bucket. He’s probably hoping it’ll break down somewhere and he’ll finally be able to stop paying insurance on it.”

“Sid seems to think you’re okay,” Fleury says. “But we wanted to make sure.”

“So,” Zhenya says. “What you think?”

Fleury shrugs. “Hard to tell.”

“We’ll need more time.” Letang regards him carefully. “You should come to Nick’s on Friday. It’ll be fun. Everyone will be there.”

“Who is everyone?”

“Me and Flower,” Letang says as he nods toward Fleury. “The only ones that matter.”

“And Sid,” Fleury — Flower — says. “It’s kind of a end-of-the-week tradition in town. You don’t want to fuck with tradition, do you?”

Zhenya shakes his head and Flower reaches into the truck, arm extended and hand curled into a fist. Zhenya stares for a moment before his brain catches up and gently bumps his own fist against Flower’s.

Flower smiles. “Didn’t think so.”

“So we’ll see you there,” Letang says, making it clear it’s not a question.

“Where is it?”

“Sid will tell you,” he says, sliding his sunglasses back on his face. They both head back to their car and Zhenya sticks his head out the window to look back at them.

“If I tell Sid you did this, will he be mad?”

“Sid doesn’t get mad,” Officer Tanger says. “Not really. I’ll see you Friday night.”

Zhenya waits for them to pull away before he carefully backs into the street.

He stalls three times on the way home but counts it as a miracle that he made it at all.

—

“So, I meet two of your friends.”

Sid frowns at him over the top of the post that they’ve just sunk into the ground.

It’s fairly straightforward work — either pound the existing fence posts back into the ground or replace them with new ones and then restring the wire so Magic can’t slip through.

It should be easy, or at least not as hard as Zhenya is finding it to be.

They’ve only been working for a few hours and he’s already sweaty and his arms are beginning to shake. In contrast, Sid seems completely fine. He’s breezing through the lengths of fences like it’s no big deal and Zhenya can tell he’s trying not to laugh at the way Zhenya’s lagging behind.

“Who?”

“Officer Fleury and Officer Letang.”

“Oh, god,” Sid says. “What did they do?”

“Nothing,” Zhenya says with a dismissive shake of his head but Sid keeps staring him down. “They pretend like truck is stolen. Scare me little bit.”

“Those assholes.”

“They say you don’t get mad.”

“Because when I get mad they think it’s funny. They never actually take it seriously. I’m so sorry.”

“Is okay, no big deal. They seem like … fun.”

Sid barks a laugh.

“They invite me to Nick’s. What is that?”

“It’s a bar,” Sid says. “It’s okay.”

“They say everyone go. Is tradition.”

“They lie, G. Get used to that.” He slides the post driver over the top of the post and steps back. “Your turn, I did the last one.”

With a heavy sigh Zhenya picks up the driver and slams it down onto the top of the post. He hits rock about 5 inches down and has to shift to the right before he finally sinks the post into the earth.

When he’s done he wipes his forearm across his brow and catches Sid hiding his smile behind his hand.

“I work out, you know,” Zhenya tells him. “I’m in good shape.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Sid says, openly giving him a once over. Zhenya flushes and nearly drops the driver on his brand new boots.

“Are you going to come?” Sid asks. “To the bar?”

Zhenya shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t know where it is. Might need directions.”

Sid rolls his eyes. “I can take you,” he says. “We can go together if you want.”

“Might be fun. Could also use drink after all this.”

Sid laughs. “Is it really that bad here?”

Zhenya looks around at the open field then up to the barn where the horses are grazing on the hay he left out for them. Then he looks at Sid, in a baseball cap and old jeans with his cheeks stained a faint red from the late summer sun.

“Guess it’s not so bad,” Zhenya admits.

 

Zhenya keeps working on the fence even after Sid has to leave for an appointment. Apparently there’s a cow a couple towns over that got caught on some barbed wire and the wound isn’t healing properly.

Zhenya assures him that he can handle it on his own, but he only gets another 20 feet or so before the horses lose interest in their hay and crowd around him.

“Okay,” he says as he packs up his tools, gently pushing them out of the way as they inspect everything. “Guess I’m done.”

He takes a quick shower to get the sweat and dirt off of his body before changing into a pair of soft sweatpants. He foregoes a shirt and heads back downstairs to try to pull together a late lunch from the mish-mash of groceries he bought at the store.

It’s disappointing, to say the least, but he’s never been much good in the kitchen anyway.

After he rinses his plate, he starts to sort through the contents of the kitchen. There are pots and pans that look like they haven’t been used in 20 years and enough silverware to set at least two dozen dining places at once.

In the cabinet in the corner is where Zhenya finds all the cookbooks. A mix of Russian and English, they all have dog-eared pages and notes in the margins. Add more butter, use less sugar, swap pork for chicken, chicken for beef. More beets. Less carrots.

Everything is written in Irina’s fine handwriting and he sits on the kitchen floor, thumbing through each book, reading every note.

He remembers baking with her in her kitchen back home, standing on a step stool with flour in his hair and eating a piece of candy that Anton snuck him behind her back.

They’re some of his fondest memories and Zhenya feels an ache in his chest when he thinks about everything he missed out on when they left.

He picks up the next book, this one focusing solely on desserts, and decides that he’s definitely taking all these books back home with him.

—

The days leading up to Friday pass slowly.

Sid works a lot, so the only time Zhenya gets to see him is in the morning when he goes to retrieve Magic.

“Trade you eggs for horse,” he says as he sets the basket of fresh eggs on the steps beside Sid.

Sid’s slowly sipping from a mug of steaming coffee, fully dressed for work except for his bare feet.

“Guess we still haven’t found the spot where he’s slipping out yet,” he says as Zhenya opens the screen door so Timmy can come running out.

“Or he find new spot,” Zhenya tells him as Timmy runs circles around his feet. “Maybe get heavy chain to chain his door shut?”

“He’s still going to slip out of the fence if he wants to after you let him out for the day,” Sid points out and Zhenya sighs. “Sorry I haven’t been around much lately.”

“Is fine,” Zhenya tells him. “You have real job. Important job. Doctor.”

Sid laughs into his coffee cup. “Thank you for understanding. We’re still on for tomorrow night? Hope you didn’t forget,” Sid jokes. “Make other plans.”

Zhenya didn’t forget. Truthfully, he’s spent most of his time thinking about what it will be like to spend that much time with Sid and Sid’s friends. Also agonizing over what he’s going to wear.

“I remember. What time?” “I can pick you up around seven? Seven-thirty?”

“Seven is good,” Zhenya says. It’ll give him plenty of time for last-minute outfit changes. “Will be fun, yes?”

“Hey, listen, if you don’t want to go — ”

“No, no, want. Just maybe a little nervous I guess.”

“Geno, it’s a dive bar. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

“It’s just … new place, new people.”

“You flew halfway around the world to a new place with new people. I think you’re going to be able to handle a shitty little bar on the outskirts of town.” Sid pushes himself to his feet and puts his hand on Zhenya’s shoulder. “Plus I’ll be beside you the whole time. It’ll be just fine.”

Zhenya nods but deep down he feels even more nervous than before.

—

Sid’s truck comes rumbling up the drive at 7 on the dot on Friday.

Zhenya has a pair of jeans halfway up his thighs and four different shirts spread out on the bed. He really should have agreed to 7:30.

The truck disappears around the corner of the house, out of the sight line from the guest room window. A moment later Zhenya hears a knock at the front door.

Sid’s gotten out of the truck and is knocking on the door, like the good, polite, Canadian boy that he is.

“Door is unlocked,” Zhenya calls down the stairs. “Will be right down.”

“Sorry if I’m a little early,” Sid calls up, even though they both know he’s right on time. “It’s a habit.”

“My habit is always late,” Zhenya yells as he finally wiggles into the jeans. They’re new and not yet broken in, still snug around the ass and thighs. “Maybe we meet in middle.” He pulls on a black v-neck T-shirt and fusses with his hair in the mirror for a moment before he grabs his wallet and bounds down the stairs.

Sid’s standing in the entryway in dark-wash jeans and a red button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Look good,” Zhenya says without thinking and Sid smiles softly at him.

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

“This,” Zhenya says as he pulls on the hem of his shirt. “I just pull on. You ready to go?”

As soon as he steps onto the porch he sees a flash of orange and white dart down and out of sight to his right.

“Cats! You see?” Zhenya rounds the corner of the porch, but they’re long gone. “First time I see. I think maybe they’re not real. I leave food out but I never see. Which one which again?”

“Toby is the orange one, Fiona is the white one. Give it a couple of weeks and they’ll want in at night. You okay with that?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says as he ducks back into the house to flick on the porch light. “Cats are nice.”

Sid has the windows rolled all the way down as he drives through the center of town and keeps on going.

Large evergreens line the road as Sid drives into the truly rural parts of the town.

“I thought my grandparents live in middle of nowhere,” Zhenya says as they pass a lone farmhouse tucked back in the woods.

“It’s quiet,” Sid says with a shrug. “People like their privacy.”

“Bar all the way out here?”

“It’s quiet,” Sid says again. “There’s no one around to complain about the noise.”

“It get that noisy?”

Sid just smiles and Zhenya spends the rest of the ride watching the way Sid’s fingers curl around the steering wheel.

The bar looks like a long log cabin plunked down in the middle of a dirt parking lot.

There’s a flashing neon sign above the door that reads Nick’s, a stark contrast to the woodsy feel of the place.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Sid says as he pulls into one of the last open spots, “and you’ll see it doesn’t really look any better on the inside. But the beer is cheap, the food is good and the people are great, so we really can’t complain.” He looks over at Zhenya, his face lit up by the glow of the sign. “Probably not what you’re used to.”

Zhenya shrugs. He’s been in bars that have been branded as shabby chic with artfully distressed leather and wood and extravagantly priced liquor served in fine crystal that was made to mimic beer mugs. He doubts that’s what he’ll find inside.

“Been to all kinds of places,” he says and Sid rolls his eyes as unbuckles his seat belt and hops out of the truck.

Zhenya can hear music and people laughing and yelling from the inside long before they make it to the door. It sounds like a good time and that _is_ something he’s used to, no matter what the venue looks like.

It turns out the tacky neon sign is just the tip of the iceberg. It seems like every square inch of the place is covered in _something._ License plates and old vintage signs advertising cola and beer line the walls along with framed photographs and postcards and paintings. Every light fixture hanging above the bar is different. The chairs and bar stools don’t match and there seems to be sports memorabilia from dozens of different teams from all around the world. It’s dim and noisy and smells faintly of cigarettes, even though there’s a very large No Smoking sign posted right above the bar.

“Tanger and Flower texted me before I picked you up,” Sid says, stepping close to Zhenya so he can be heard over the music. “They have a spot in the back. Do you want to grab some drinks first?”

“Drinks,” Zhenya says. “Could go for a drink.”

Even with four guys working behind the bar, there’s still a wait for their drinks.

“I’ll be right with you, Sid,” an impossibly tall blonde guy says as he passes by with two bottles of beer in his hand. “Just a second.”

“Take your time,” Sid says as the guy ducks down to pull out clean glasses as he takes the order of the women to Sid’s left. “That’s Nick,” Sid tells Zhenya. “He owns the place. He inherited it from his father, who got it from his father and so on. He puts everything he has into it.”

“Shows,” Zhenya muses as he looks around. There’s a lot going on but it’s clearly well-loved by the town and he spots a few familiar faces in the crowd. Jared from the market and Bryan from the hardware store. At the other end of the bar, Matt Cullen is talking to a guy with a cap pulled down over his eyes.

“All right,” Nick says as he stops in front of Sid. “What can I get for you guys?”

“Get the hell out of my kitchen!”

“I’m only trying to help!”

A guy stumbles out of the kitchen behind the bar followed by another guy brandishing a spatula like a weapon.

He points it at Nick as the first guy readjusts the cap on his head, turning it around backwards on his head.

“Keep him out of the kitchen. I mean it.”

“How did you even get back there?” Nick asks.

“You’re busy,” the guy says. “I just walked in.”

“We talked about this, Brian. You’ve got your own kitchen to cook in. Leave Marcus alone.”

“Your food is good, Nick, but it could be great. You know, for bar food.”

“What does that mean?” Marcus asks, pulling himself up even taller. It’s still hard for him to be intimidating with such a thin frame.

“Nothing,” Brian says innocently but then adds, “but if you take the time to make your own mayo, that could really make a difference, and if you tempura-fried the mozzarella sticks instead of using bread crumbs, they’d be so much crispier. It’s easy stuff.”

Marcus stares at him then waves the spatula in his face. “Stay out of my kitchen.”

“But — ” Brian starts as Nick steps between them. “Enough. Marcus, back in the kitchen, I know you’re busy. Brian, stop. Go give Cully and Phil a sample of your wine or something.”

“They don’t appreciate it,” Brian pouts. “I tell them they need to savor it but they just gulp it down. They don’t respect it.”

“Try again. There are knives in the kitchen and I don’t doubt Marcus would use them on you. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“Fine,” Brian says as he slides a bottle of wine and two long-stemmed glasses out from beneath the bar and pops the cork.

“Sorry,” Nick says as he turns back to Sid and Zhenya. “It’s been crazy here.” He nods to Zhenya. “You’re new?”

“This is Geno,” Sid says as Zhenya and Nick nod to each other. “Irina and Anton’s grandson. He’ll be around for a little bit while he fixes up their place.”

Nick nods again. “First-timers get their first drink on the house. What’ll it be?” Zhenya gets himself a whiskey and Sid orders a beer, something local that Zhenya has never heard of before. When Nick moves away to grab their drinks, they get a clear shot down to the end of the bar.

“Brian owns the restaurant in town. Dumo’s.” Sid says as Brian pours Matt and the man with the cap pulled down low, Phil, a glass of wine. “He’s a really good chef, went to school for it and everything. He just recently started making wine.”

Brian swirls the wine in the glass and takes a sniff of it, gesturing to Matt and Phil to do the same.

“Nick has been letting him test out different bottles here, because Brian’s not sure they’re good enough to serve at his restaurant.”

Across the bar Matt follows Brian’s lead and swirls the wine in the glass, looking unamused but willing to humor him. Brian points to Phil and Phil picks up the glass and downs it in one go. Phil smacks his lips and Matt covers his mouth with his hand so he doesn’t spit wine everywhere as his shoulders shake with laughter.

“Fuck you guys,” Brian says as he rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle off the bar before heading back over to Sid. “Sid, you’re not an asshole. Do you want a sample? What about your friend?”

“Dumo’s,” Zhenya says softly as he squints at Brian. “I know you. I heard of you,” he amends. “In a magazine. Food Network?”

“You get Food Network magazine in Russia?” Sid asks.

“No, was in airport. Miami, Tampa maybe. Have long layover so I pick up magazine and read about you.”

“You read that article?” Brian asks, sounding a bit amazed. “That’s so cool.”

“Was stuck in airport with shitty terminal food. I read all about your restaurant — make me so hungry. Very unfair. Can’t believe I meet you here.”

“Small world,” Sid says as Brian reaches out to graciously shake Zhenya’s hand.

“Hey, man,” Brian says, still holding Zhenya’s hand in his own. “Anytime you want a table at the restaurant, you got it, okay? Anytime, I mean it.”

“Okay,” Zhenya says. “Will have to come by.”

“That’s a pretty impressive offer,” Sid says as Brian moves away and offers his wine to other patrons down the bar. “This is a small town, but Dumo’s is usually booked solid for months in advance.”

“Good thing I’m VIP now,” Zhenya says as Nick slides their drinks across the bar.

“Here you guys go,” he says. “You guys want food or do you just want to mooch off whatever Tanger and Flower ordered?”

“I think we’ll see what they got,” Sid says as he picks up their drinks.

Zhenya follows close behind Sid as they make their way through the crowd back toward the pool tables. It’s slow going. Everyone has to stop and talk to Sid, which leads to introductions. By the time they finally make it across the bar, Zhenya feels like he’s met everyone in town and remembers none of their names.

“Fucking finally,” Letang says when Sid slides into the booth beside Fleury. Zhenya sits on the opposite side next to Tanger, trying to keep a careful distance between them which falls apart when Tanger throws his arm over the back of the booth like he’s trying to close him in. “We thought you got lost on your way here.”

“I said we were coming,” Sid says, picking a tortilla chip out of the plate of nachos in the middle of the table.

“Is that all you’re drinking?” Fleury asks as he elbows Sid.

“I have to drive,” Sid says. “Plus, I could get a call. Animals don’t run on a 9-to-5 schedule.”

“Just make Jake do it.”

“I don’t really think he’s ready to go out there all on his own yet.”

“You have to let the baby bird leave the nest at some point, Sid. What’s the point of having an intern if you don’t use him?”

“The point is that he’s still an intern and he’s still learning. Someday I’ll be able to trust him on his own.”

“Jake is like, the most responsible kid ever,” Letang says. “If you can’t trust him now you’ll never be able to.”

Sid shrugs. “I’m fine with my beer. Don’t pressure me. Isn’t that what you guys talk about when you go into the elementary school? Not giving into peer pressure. You’re not setting a very good example right now.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. Be boring,” Fleury says and Letang laughs.

“He’s only saying that because I’m the one driving him home tonight,” Tanger says as he leans over the pool table and lines up a shot. “I’m drinking light tonight, too.” His eyes suddenly flick over to Zhenya. “‘Sup, Geno.”

“Officer Letang,” Zhenya says as he nods and raises his glass.

Fleury snorts a laugh and reaches around Sid to throw an arm around Zhenya. “Officer Letang,” he parrots. “Just call him Tanger. Everyone else does.”

“I call you Flower, then?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Fleury says. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Sure,” Tanger says. “Geno’s cool. So far. Don’t really know much about you.”

Zhenya pulls a chicken wing off the platter in front of him. It’s covered in a bright red sauce and he can smell the heat before he even gets it to his lips. “Can ask.”

“You grew up in Russia?” Tanger asks and Zhenya nods.

“Live there all my life.”

“You never left?”

“Travel for business but always to big cities. New York, Chicago, Toronto. Never country like this.”

“Toronto isn’t too far from here.”

“Relative to how far Russia is,” Sid says. “It’s still a long trip.”

“I don’t know,” Tanger says taking a swig from his bottle, “Jack makes it up here on occasion, doesn’t he?”

Sid’s shoulders draw up into a tense, straight line and his jaw sets. “He does,” he says shortly and before anyone can ask a follow-up Sid’s pushing his way out of the booth, almost shoving Flower out on his ass in his rush to stand. “A table just opened up,” he says with a nod toward the open pool table. “Anyone want to play?”

Truth is, Zhenya sucks at pool. He’s better at poker, where your personality is part of the game and Zhenya has always had that in spades.

He figures there are two ways to play this. He can take it seriously and try his absolute hardest not to suck entirely in the hopes of impressing Sid or, he can lean into his own shortcomings.

“Am really bad at this,” Zhenya tells Sid when he hands him a cue. “Might need to show me how to do it.”

“You can’t be any worse than Tanger,” Sid says and Tanger playfully threatens to smack his own stick across Sid’s ass.

“Are you good?” Zhenya asks Sid. When Sid shrugs, Tanger laughs.

“Of course Sid is good. He’s good at everything. It’s impossible for him to be bad at something. I’d find it annoying if I didn’t love him so much.”

“I’m decent,” Sid says as Tanger racks up the pool balls in the middle of the table. He huffs a laugh and Sid rolls his eyes.

“You show me?” Zhenya asks. “Am probably holding it wrong to start.”

Sid narrows his eyes but steps around Zhenya and helps him position the stick in his hands the proper way. “If this whole thing is just a ploy to get me to stand behind you ...” Sid says and Zhenya turns his head, lips brushing against Sid’s temple.

“Then it work, yes?”

The corners of Sid’s mouth pulls up into a grin and Tanger groans.

“Yo, flirty boys,” Flower slurs. “If you’re just going to feel each other up the whole time, then there’s no point in playing.”

“Yeah,” Sid says as he steps back from Zhenya. “You’re right.” He takes the stick from Zhenya’s hand and places it on the table. “We’re going to sit this round out.” Then he turns to Zhenya. “Do you want to go sit and talk for a little while?”

Zhenya nods and Sid wraps his fingers around his wrist and leads him back to the table. They’re stopped a few times by people who want to say hello to Sid, but Sid only lets go of Zhenya’s wrist then they’re back in the booth, sitting on the same side, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.

“You know everyone here?” Zhenya asks, head tilted down so he can speak into Sid’s ear. “Everyone knows everyone,” Sid says back. He has to tilt his head up and Zhenya feels his warm breath fan across his cheek as he speaks.

“Yes, but everyone wants to say hello to you.”

“Livestock outnumber people three to one, easily. Almost everyone has an animal that I’ve treated. They like that I keep their animals healthy.”

“They like you,” Zhenya says, knocking their shoulders together. “You sell yourself short. You good guy. You popular on your own.”

Sid ducks his head. “You don’t really even know me.”

Zhenya leans back and drapes his arm along the back of the booth. “So then tell.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Not from here originally?” Zhenya asks and Sid shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. “Going to make me beg for answers?”

Sid laughs and says, “I’m from Nova Scotia. My hometown isn’t quite as small as this but it’s certainly not a hub of activity.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“I had to go where I was needed. Once I decided to specialize in large animals I had to adapt. Not a lot of cows or horses in the big cities so I had to settle down in the country. I looked around and found the clinic up here. Dr. Lemieux was looking for an intern so I applied. When he retired I took over and now ...” He trails off. “Here I am.”

“Just that easy?”

“Oh, god,” Sid says, relaxing back against the booth. His hair tickles Zhenya ’s arm. “It wasn’t easy at all. None of it. School and those first few months of work...it’s so different when you’re working on someone’s pet, you know? Something that they really love, a part of the family. The stakes are so high and I was constantly afraid I was going to fuck something up. The stress of it all.” He shakes his head. “But Mario was a good mentor and I figured things out. Things were okay, finally. Not that it isn’t still stressful, but I think I’m handling it better. Or at least I can’t overthink things because Jake is overthinking things and I have to be there for him.”

“Jake is intern? Like you were?”

Sid nods. “I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point.”

“He not here?”

“I don’t think so,” Sid says as he looks around. His eyes land on someone on the other side of the room and he smiles and raises his hand to wave.

“Can ask something else?” Zhenya says and Sid nods. “You ever have boyfriend here?”

“In town?” Sid asks then shakes his head. “No.”

“No one, ever?”

“It’s not like I have a ton of options. It’s a small town and the population that I can pick from is even smaller.” Sid looks up at Zhenya then groans and throws his head back. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like how everyone else in town looks at me. Like you feel sorry for me. I’m okay. I’m not lonely. I’m used to it.”

Zhenya’s not sure if he believes him.

Sid knocks their knees together beneath the table.

“What about you? Anyone back home?”

Zhenya shakes his head. “No. Not for long time. Since college, really. Best relationship I have is with my 65-year-old assistant and she already married. Is a little lonely,” he admits and Sid smiles sadly at him.

“Yeah. Maybe me, too.”

Zhenya tilts his head down as Sid tips his chin up and Zhenya wants to lean in, he’s about to, when Sid’s phone starts to buzz in his pocket.

Sid huffs and pulls his phone out.

“Who is calling?” Zhenya asks. “Everyone here.”

“Not everyone,” Sid says, frowning down at the screen before he answers it, pressing it tight to his ear so he can hear.

“Jake, what’s up?”

His frown deepens as he puts his free hand on Zhenya’s shoulder and urges him out of the booth.

“It’s fine,” Sid says into the phone. “I’ll be right there, okay? Tell Cath it’s going to be okay.”

“I have to go,” Sid says as he pulls himself out of the booth behind Zhenya.

“Tanger’s wife called Jake. One of their horses is in labor and she’s a little nervous about it.”

“Horse is nervous?”

“His wife is nervous. Tanger!” Sid yells across the bar and Letang lifts his head at the sound of his name. Sid and Zhenya cut through the crowd to get to him. “Violet’s having her baby.”

Tanger’s eyes widen as Flower throws his arms around his shoulder.

“You’re gonna be a grandpa!” Flower yells into Tanger’s ear and Tanger’s quick to shake him off as he pulls out his keys.

“You have to find a ride home,” Tanger tells him. “I gotta go.”

“Go, go,” Flower says as he waves him off. “I’ll get a ride with Cully. He’s old-man responsible. Go have a baby. Congrats!”

In the parking lot Tanger clutches his keys in his hand and whips his head around as he looks for his car.

“Did you forget where you parked?” Sid asks and Tanger shakes his head.

“No, I just .. I was right there,” he says as he points to a minivan. “I fucking swear it. Did someone steal it?” he asks frantically and Sid steps forward to place a gentle hand on his arm.

“I think you need to calm down, bud.”

“I’m fine,” Tanger snaps. “I just need to find my fucking car.”

“Push button,” Zhenya suggests as he nods to the keys and Tanger scrambles to get his fingers to work well enough to hit the small _unlock_ button.

There’s a beep and then headlights flash from across the lot.

Sid whistles. “You weren’t even close. You okay to drive or do you want to go with us?”

“I’m not squeezing between you two.”

“Who says you squeeze?” Zhenya asks. “Maybe make you sit in back.”

“I’m fine to drive. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

“Right behind you,” Sid says then turns to Zhenya. “You know you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. You can get a ride home with someone. If Matt is taking Flower home, I’m sure he’d drop you off, too.”

“Is okay. Not much fun without you.”

“Well, I can drop you off back at your place or you could come with me. It’s your choice.”

“Baby horse if I go with?”

“That’s the plan.”

Zhenya nods as Tanger pulls out of the lot, definitely going over the speed limit. “Can go with.”

Tanger is long gone by the time they make it to Sid’s truck. They leave the windows rolled up and Sid turns the heat on low to fight the chill in the air.

“Sorry this kind of changed our plans,” Sid says and Zhenya shakes his head.

“Emergency is emergency. Is okay.”

“It’s probably not even an emergency,” Sid says. “Cath started showing Friesians a few years ago. She’s been trying to breed Violet for almost as long and it finally happened. I think everyone’s a little jumpy with their first foal. They like the reassurance of a vet being there. I guess it’s like when people have their first kid — they worry about every little thing, but then when they have their second they’re a lot more relaxed. Or at least that’s how it was for my parents.”

“You have sibling?” Zhenya asks and Sid nods.

“A sister. She’s 10 years younger than me. You’re an only child, right?”

Zhenya nods and they fall into silence until Sid takes a left at a soft purple mailbox and pulls up the drive.

“Here we are,” Sid says softly.

The lights are on in the farmhouse and in the barn. Tanger’s car is parked beside a red truck with a sticker for the veterinary clinic on the back bumper.

Before Sid even parks the truck a woman comes out of the barn, her blonde hair piled into a knot at the top of her head.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” she says as Sid opens the truck door. “She’s probably fine but she just looks so uncomfortable and I just ...” She trails off when she spots Zhenya in the passenger seat. “Were you on a date? Did I interrupt? Oh, Sid — ”

“It’s okay,” Sid says with a wave of his hand. “This is my job. Cath, this is Geno. How long has she been in labor?”

Cath waves at Geno then looks back to Sid. “About 45 minutes. Longest 45 minutes of my life. Now I know how Kristopher felt when I was in labor. I hate it.”

Sid puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”

Cath nods and takes a _deep_ breath before she slowly exhales.

“Has her water broken?”

Cath nods. “Yes, she has to be close, right? Should I be worried it’s taking so long?”

Sid’s just about to answer when a guy with curly blond hair sticks his head out of the barn.

“Hey, Sid,” he calls. “I think you should come in here.”

Sid gives Cath another reassuring smile before they head for the barn, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off to leave him in a clean, white T-shirt.

“I think it’s elbow lock,” the blond says as he looks back toward Zhenya. “Were you on a date?”

“Elbow lock sounds serious,” Cath says. “Is it serious?”

“It just means she’s going to need a little help,” Sid tells her as he folds his shirt over the door that leads into a large tack room. “Jake this is Geno, Geno, Jake. Someday I’ll stop having to introduce you to people.”

“Hey, Geno,” Jake says then looks back to Sid. “Were you on a date?”

“Don’t worry about it. Is she down at the end?”

Jake nods and leads them down the aisle.

The horses are gorgeous. Jet black with long, flowing manes that look almost crimped.

“Beautiful,” Zhenya murmurs as he holds his hand out flat and lets one of them sniff.

“Thanks,” Cath says softly, but her face is still pinched with worry.

Jake leads them to the last stall on the right and he and Sid head in while Zhenya and Cath hang back.

Violet is lying down on her side in the straw-covered stall. She looks exhausted as Tanger kneels beside her head and gently pats her neck.

“Hey, Mama,” Sid says softly as Tanger gets up and steps outside the stall to put an arm around Cath.

“What we should be seeing,” Sid says as he crouches down by her tail, which is taped up and out of the way, “is one foot slightly ahead of the other and then the nose.” He looks up at Jake. “See how it’s one foot and then the nose? One of its elbows is out of position. She can’t deliver like that.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Cath asks. “The baby, too?”

“They’re going to be just fine,” Sid says, completely calm and totally focused. “We just have to help her out a little bit.”

With practiced ease Sid carefully shifts the foal back so he can dislodge its elbow and work its leg free. He talks softly to Violet the whole time, telling her how well she’s doing and how everything is going to be okay.

“There we go,” Sid says as the second front leg emerges. “Just gonna help her out a little, just to be sure. I need a third hand, Jake. It’s a big baby.”

Together, they pull the foal out as far as the shoulders before Sid takes a step back.

“She should be able to do the rest herself,” Sid says as Violet tenses and, with one final push, the rest of the foal slides out.

“Oh, beautiful,” Cath breathes at the same time Tanger says “Gross.”

Cath slaps the back of her hand lightly against his chest as Violet gets herself to her feet to sniff her baby.

The foal is all black, just like Violet, and when it finally stand up its on wobbly legs.

“Looks just like Flower when he’s drunk,” Tanger says, pulling out his phone. “I’m going to send him a video.”

“Looks like you got yourself a filly,” Sid says as he lets himself and Jake out of the stall and Cath clutches at her chest.

“A girl,” she sighs happily as the baby begins to nurse.

“You have name picked out?” Zhenya asks and Cath shakes her head.

“I think we’ll let our son decide.”

Sid snorts. “Good luck with that. Is he going to be disappointed that he missed it?”

“I figured I should let him sleep. What if something went wrong?”

“Mom and baby look great,” Sid says. “Do you want me to stick around and keep an eye on her for a bit?”

“I think we can handle it,” Cath says. “You already did so much, the both of you,” she says to Sid and Jake. “Why don’t you come inside and wash up? Then you and Geno can get back to whatever it is that you two were doing.” She grins at them and leads Jake and Sid back down the aisle and toward the house.

“Excited?” Zhenya asks. Tanger is still firing off texts to Flower.

“Yeah,” Tanger says. “I never thought I’d really get into this kind of stuff, you know? This was Cath’s thing and I was going to support her no matter what, but I didn’t know I’d care so much. I never knew that I would learn to love it. It’s weird how things change.”

After they leave the barn, Zhenya waits for Sid by his truck.

When he comes out he’s buttoning up his shirt and rolling up the sleeves. In the light from the house, Zhenya can see how red the skin on his forearms is from scrubbing up inside.

“Well.” Sid says, stopping in front of him. “That was quite the night, eh? Bet you didn’t think you’d be watching a horse give birth when you woke up this morning.”

“No,” Zhenya says. Sid huffs a laugh.

“Small-town life sometimes surprises you like that. … It’s kind of late,” he says. “I guess I should just take you back to your grandmother’s place?”

Zhenya nods. It’s too late to go all the way back to the bar and, clearly, Sid just wants to head home himself.

“Think maybe is good idea,” Zhenya says and Sid gives him a weak smile as they climb back into the truck.

It’s a quiet drive home.

Sid keeps his eyes straight ahead and Zhenya watches the shadows that the trees make on the pavement in front of them.

Sid puts the car in park at the top of Irina’s driveway but makes no move to shut it off.

“I had a good time tonight,” he says before Zhenya can even reach for the handle to open the door. “Before I got called away, just like, talking to you. I thought that was fun.”

“Liked it, too,” Zhenya says and Sid nods.

“Good,” Sid says, eyes darting nervously around the cabin of the truck. “I don’t know if maybe you wanted to do it again sometime but if you did … I would like that.”

Sid’s eyes finally land and focus on Zhenya and, when he gives him a crooked smile, Zhenya leans across the center console and reels him in with a hand on the back of Sid’s neck.

Kissing Sid is even better than he thought it would be. It’s soft and a little shy until Zhenya gets bold and nips on the sweet curve of Sid’s bottom lip and Sid moans and presses closer, almost crawling into his lap.

Sid sweeps his tongue into Zhenya’s mouth as Zhenya pushes his hands up into Sid’s hair. They can’t get close enough, even though there’s barely any distance between them, and Zhenya would love to get out of this truck and into a bed as soon as possible.

“Come inside?” he asks and Sid nods.

“Yes, no, wait. Shit. Timmy. I have to take Timmy out. He’s been in his crate for a while now.”

Zhenya isn't about to get cock blocked by a puppy, no matter how cute he might be.

“Okay,” he says. “Then we go back to your place.”

Sid stares at him for a moment, tongue darting out to swipe against his lower lip. When he sees Zhenya following the movement, he nods.

“Yeah,” Sid says as he puts the car in reverse and throws an arm over the back of Zhenya’s seat so he can see out the back window. “Yeah. For sure, let's do that.”

Sid makes the short drive in record time and, as soon as he has the front door open, Zhenya has him back against it, kissing him as Timmy barks excitedly in the background.

“I have to take Timmy out real quick, okay?” Sid kisses him again, arms looped around Zhenya’s neck to hold him close. “Bedroom is upstairs on the right. I’ll be right up.” He pulls Zhenya back down for another kiss and Zhenya gets his hand up the inside of Sid’s shirt before he’s being pushed away with a laugh.

“You ticklish,” Zhenya says with a grin. “Going to remember that.”

Sid raises an eyebrow at him as he hurries off to free Timmy from his crate.

In the hallway leading to the bedroom, Zhenya pauses to look at the photos hanging on the wall.

They’re mostly landscapes, sunsets over grass-covered hills and clear, calm lakes. There’s a big yellow Lab holding two tennis balls in its mouth and another of it in mid-air, jumping off a dock into a lake. There’s a photo of Sid, young and baby-faced, standing between Tanger and Flower, and another of him standing behind a blonde girl on a pier, both of them holding a fishing rod in one hand and a fish in the other.

This is Sid’s life. It looks like a good one.

Like the rest of the house, Sid’s bedroom is beautiful and clean.

The walls are white paneling — _shiplap,_ he thinks, remembering the word from the time he marathoned “Fixer Upper” while he was hungover in New York City — and the floors are a honeyed hardwood.

There’s a king-size bed against the wall between two huge windows that look out onto the woods behind the property. The bedding is a midnight blue and the pillows leaning against the distressed-wood headboard look thick and soft.

It looks comfortable and cozy and Zhenya runs his hand across the comforter at the foot of the bed as he makes his way around to the nightstand.

He pauses, one hand on the drawer, ready to open it, and looks out the window into the backyard. Sid’s throwing a tennis ball to Timmy in an attempt to tire him out but Timmy quickly loses interest in the ball and sets his sights on Sid. Sid runs backwards through the grass, clapping his hands excitedly and calling Timmy’s name so Timmy chases after him. Sid lets himself be caught a few times, with Timmy crashing into his legs before Sid takes off again.

It’s sweet, how much Sid obviously adores him and how much Timmy clearly loves him.

They disappear together around the corner of the house and Zhenya finally slides open the nightstand drawer.

Inside there’s a pad of paper with what looks to be the beginnings of a shopping list scribbled on it. There’s a couple of pens and a tube of Burt’s Bees lip balm. A pair of black-rimmed reading glasses and an old copy of “All Creatures Great and Small” with its paper backing nearly hanging off the spine. He takes it out and reads a few pages before returning it and yanks the drawer open a little farther to see into the back corner. All he finds is some spare change and a phone charger with a frayed end.

“Hey.”

Zhenya yanks his hand out of the drawer and turns around. Sid’s standing in the doorway, shirt hanging open and shoes off.

“I thought you’d be naked by now.”

“Was snooping. Sorry.”

“Find anything good?”

Zhenya shrugs.

“Maybe check the other side.”

Zhenya’s eyebrows shoot up and he’s quick to crawl over the bed and open the drawer.

There’s a bottle of lube, half empty; a box of condoms, open but full; and a vibrator, small and unassuming but Zhenya’s sure it gets the job done.

“Find what you were looking for?” Sid asks.

Zhenya nods and grabs the bottle of lube. “Timmy okay?” he asks as he moves back to the middle of the bed, bottle tucked beneath his hip to warm it.

“He’s fine. What about you? You okay?”

Zhenya nods and sits up. “Come here.”

Sid smiles, pulls the button-down off his shoulders and drops it to the floor before crossing the distance and crawling onto Zhenya’s lap.

Sid licks into Zhenya’s mouth as he works his hands beneath Zhenya’s T-shirt, spreading them out across his abdomen briefly before working the fabric up his body.

They have to stop kissing to get the shirt over Zhenya’s head and Sid tosses it across the room before diving back in.

“Yours now,” Zhenya mumbles against Sid’s lips as he pulls at the hem of Sid’s white undershirt. “Pants, too. Don’t want to stop kissing again.”

Sid laughs then slides off his lap. He easily pulls off the shirt and his fingers make quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans. He slides the denim down his thighs and Zhenya inhales a sharp breath at the sight of them.

“Come on,” Sid says, voice coming out as a sharp whine. “You’re falling behind.”

Zhenya blinks, still overwhelmed at the sight of Sid’s bare thighs and chest, and Sid huffs and decides to take matters into his own hands. He moves in and unbuttons Zhenya’s jeans for him before hastily sliding down the zipper, fingers brushing against his half-hard cock.

He hisses and lifts his hips so Sid can pull his pants down and off, sliding Zhenya’s socks off as he goes.

“Okay?” Sid asks, hands braced against Zhenya’s shoulders and Zhenya nods.

The moon is streaming in through the window and streaking across Sid’s skin.

Zhenya laughs and Sid frowns.

“You know it’s really rude to laugh at someone when they’re standing in front of you almost naked.”

“No, no,” Zhenya says, reaching out and pulling Sid in by the hips so he steps between his splayed thighs. He traces his thumb along the sharply defined tan line on Sid’s bicep. “You have, what they call? When tan is only on part of body?”

Sid looks down and watches the movement of Zhenya’s thumb. “A farmer’s tan?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the center of Sid’s chest, milky white in the pale moonlight, and then another on Sid’s forearm. He can taste the sun on Sid’s skin. “Is cute.”

“It’s not my fault,” Sid says. “I’m out in the sun a lot, especially in the summer, but when do I ever have my shirt off?”

“Take shirt off more often and get more business,” Zhenya says before he pulls Sid back onto his lap. It feels right, the weight of Sid across his thighs. “Or just take shirt off with me.” He kisses the hollow of Sid’s throat and Sid sighs. “That’s good, too.”

Sid tips them back onto the mattress, legs tangling together and lips dragging across each other’s skin. Zhenya rolls them and settles into the cradle of Sid’s thighs. He pulls back to look down at him and is wholly unprepared to see the sweet flush on Sid’s skin, how it starts at his cheeks and spreads down his neck and fans across his chest.

Beautiful, Zhenya thinks. Perfect.

He realizes a second later that he must have said it out loud because Sid looks down, eyelashes fanning against the tops of his cheeks and he bites his lips, swollen and deep red.

“Mean it,” Zhenya whispers. “Best thing I ever see. Gonna make you feel good. What you like?”

“Where’s the lube?”

Zhenya scrambles off him and frantically pats across the bed. Sid laughs as he looks and Zhenya pinches his hip.

“Could help me look, you know.”

“Or,” Sid says, “I could take off my boxers.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, hand finally bumping against the bottle of lube on the edge of the bed. “Should definitely do that.”

Sid smiles and hooks his fingers under the elastic of his boxers and lifts his hips up as Zhenya uncaps the bottle.

Sid’s cock curves up against his belly, long and thick, and he fists his hand into the comforter in anticipation as Zhenya squeezes the lube out onto his fingertips.

Sid’s eyes flutter shut when Zhenya finally gets a hand around him and strokes him slowly from root to tip. His lips part and he moans when Zhenya twists his wrist at the head and Sid rolls his hips up into the touch.

Suddenly, Sid reaches out and wraps his fingers around Zhenya’s wrist, halting his movement.

“You. too,” Sid pants. “Want to see you.”

Zhenya pulls back and scrambles to his feet, shucking off his boxers. Sid’s leans up on his elbows to watch him, eyes half-lidded and chest heaving.

“Jesus,” Sid breathes. “Get over here, come over here.”

Zhenya laughs and climbs back onto the bed. Sid shifts to his side and Zhenya lies down beside him. He presses his forehead to Sid’s as Sid takes them both in hand. The lube has gone a bit tacky but Zhenya can’t bring himself to mind when he reaches down and grabs a handful of Sid’s ass to bring him even closer. It’s like heaven.

Sid comes first, moaning into Zhenya’s mouth as he spills onto his own fist and Zhenya’s stomach.

Zhenya comes a moment later, fingers digging into the meat of Sid’s ass as his body shakes though his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Zhenya mumbles, toes uncurling as Sid rubs his heel against the back of Zhenya’s calf.

Zhenya presses his face into the crook of Sid’s neck. He takes a moment to breathe in the scent of sweat and faded cologne and sex then looks down at the mess between them.

“Sticky,” he says and Sid laughs.

“I know. Hold on. I’ll clean us up.”

He starts to roll away but Zhenya slides his hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for a long, slow kiss. Then, he drops his hand to Sid’s hip and pats.

“Okay, now go. Getting gross.”

Sid pushes Zhenya back so he’s flat on the mattress so nothing drips down and onto the comforter.

Zhenya watches Sid walk toward the bathroom, thoroughly enjoying the view.

“Have best ass,” he says as Sid disappears through the bathroom door. Sid barks a laugh and turns on the faucet.

“Thanks. Yours isn’t bad either.”

Sid steps back into the room holding a washcloth in his hand. Sid carefully cleans him up and Zhenya hums in vague interest when he wipes the dried lube and come off of his dick.

Sid smirks and tosses the cloth back toward the bathroom.

“Are you staying or do you want me to bring you back to your place?”

Zhenya hasn’t thought about leaving. “Is okay if I stay?”

“Of course,” Sid says as he pulls back the covers on the left side of the bed. “We’d get Timmy all excited if we went downstairs now anyway. Plus, I’d like it if you’d stayed.”

Zhenya smiles then climbs into bed beside him.

“Have question,” he says as he settles into bed. “You big spoon or little?”

Zhenya falls asleep quickly and sleeps deeply. He wakes up once when the bed shifts beside him as Sid gets up.

“Where you going?” he asks, not bothering to lift his head off the pillow.

“I have to take Timmy out,” he answers. He picks his boxers off the floor and Zhenya whines when he pulls them on. “I know it’s pretty secluded out here but I’m not going outside naked.” He leans over the bed and kisses Zhenya on the back of his neck. “I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep.”

Zhenya drifts off before Sid’s even out of the room.

The second time he wakes there’s sunlight visible in the gaps between the edge of the blinds and the window frame. Sid must have closed them sometime during the night.

Sid’s still fast asleep beside him, on his back with his face turned toward Zhenya.

His chest is rising and falling gently and his skin is sleep warm when Zhenya cups his cheek, morning stubble scratching against his palm.

He looks peaceful and content and Zhenya wants to let him stay like that for as long as possible just as much as he wants to lean in and kiss him awake.

The latter desire wins out and he shifts closer to press a kiss to the underside of Sid’s jaw.

Sid sighs as he slowly wakes and Zhenya nips at his chin as Sid winds his fingers through Zhenya’s hair.

“Morning,” he says, voice a deep rumble that Zhenya can feel as he kisses the base of his throat. “This is a nice way to wake up.”

“Best,” Zhenya says, pushing himself up and over Sid. “Morning sex is best way to start a Sunday.”

“It’s Saturday,” Sid points out before gasping and clutching Zhenya by the shoulders. “Horny.”

Zhenya hums and rubs his hand across Sid’s bare chest before dipping it lower. “Yes, me too.”

“No, Hornqvist. The farrier. I saw him earlier in the week and he mentioned that Irina, before she passed, made an appointment with him for today. It’s probably on the calendar on the side of the fridge. He’s probably at your grandmother’s now. Come on. You have to go meet him.”

“Why? He probably leave already.”

“No, he’s probably in the barn. He knows what he’s doing. Doesn’t need any help.”

“Good, then I stay,” he ducks down for a kiss and lets his fingertips trace around the cut of Sid’s hips.

“You should go,” Sid says even as he rolls his hips up into the touch. “You should at least meet him. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Polite is for Canadians.”

“Patric is Swedish.”

“Then he won’t have problem.”

Sid gives him a flat look then pecks him on the lips. “Come on. Up. I’ll give you a ride.”

Zhenya sits in the passenger seat of Sid’s truck with Timmy in his lap. He has the window rolled down so the puppy can stick his head out on the short drive.

There’s a pickup parked beside the barn and Zhenya shakes his head.

“Everyone in this town have truck?”

“It’s the easiest way to haul things around and, in the winter, the best thing to stick a plow on. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of your driveway.”

“Very nice of you,” Zhenya says as he shifts Timmy off of his lap and pops open the door. “See you later?”

“Yeah, of course. Hey — ” Sid tugs on the back of Zhenya’s shirt and pulls him across the console and into a quick kiss. “Have a good day. Have fun with Horny.”

“How could I not?” Zhenya asks and Sid rolls his eyes and pushes him toward the open door.

He finds Horny by following the sound of Swedish coming from Magic’s stall.

Horny is bent over and holding Magic’s front hoof between his knees. Magic has his neck bent and he’s doing his best to pull something out of Horny’s back pocket.

Horny is laughing and trying to wiggle away, even reaching back to lightly swat at him, but Magic must see it as a game or a challenge because he won’t be deterred.

“Magic,” Zhenya says. “нет.”

Magic turns around with his ears pricked forward. He stretches his neck out toward Zhenya as Horny puts his hoof down, straightens up and turns around.

Horny’s smile lights up his whole face as he tucks his tools into the pocket of the apron he’s wearing.

“I’m Geno,” Zhenya says but Horny ignores his extended hand in favor of throwing his arms around Zhenya’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “Oh,” Zhenya says as Horny squeezes tighter.

“Nice to meet you,” Horny says when he finally lets go. “Seems like everyone else did last night. I couldn’t make it. Newborn at home, you know?”

Zhenya nods and rolls his shoulders. He can’t believe the strength in Horny’s grip.

“I knocked on the door for a while but you didn’t answer, so I thought I’d just come out and get started. Is that okay?”

“Is fine,” Zhenya says. “I was at Sid’s.”

He winces as Horny’s smile gets impossibly wider.

“Oh!” He elbows Zhenya gently in the ribs. “Have fun?”

“Oh.” Zhenya rubs his hand over the back of his neck. He’s hesitant to gossip. Sid doesn’t seem like the type to air his private life out in public. “Sid’s nice. Good guy.”

Horny winks and scratches at Magic’s head when he tries to nose his way into Horny’s apron pocket. “Sid is very nice. Great vet, great friend. Lucky he’s so close, huh?” Horny winks again and Zhenya clears his throat.

“You need any help?”

Horny shakes his head. “Nah. These guys are easy. If you want to start feeding the ones I’ve already worked on I’ll let them out for you if you’d like?”

Geno nods. “I’ll be inside if you need.”

Horny waves and bends over again to pick up Magic’s hoof. Zhenya watches him for another moment before he shakes himself and heads up to the feed stall.

Zhenya is on his second cup of tea when Horny finally emerges from the barn. He’s been watching from the kitchen window, waiting, and when Zhenya steps out onto the porch Horny waves to him.

“I’ll mail you the bill,” he calls. “I’m running late for my next appointment.”

Zhenya waves back, helplessly, as Horny gets into his truck and takes off down the drive.

He makes breakfast with fresh eggs from the coop then runs upstairs to take a quick shower.

Standing in front of the mirror over the sink, Zhenya tilts his head to the side and presses his fingertips to his neck, over the distinct mark left behind by Sid’s lips. He winces. He didn’t have to worry about gossiping — Horny knew what he was up to last night just by taking one look at him. At least Zhenya can say that he tried.

After his shower he heads out to work on the fences. He can already feel the chill in the air and he knows his window for getting the posts set is rapidly closing.

He makes good progress, even working alone. It’s almost soothing being out there in the quiet fields with nothing on his mind except where exactly he’s going to sink the next fencepost.

He’s been working for a couple of hours when he spots a length of rusted barbed wire a few feet beyond the fence line, perhaps a leftover from when the land was used for cattle, well before before his grandparents bought the place.

It’s wound around a small sapling, so he cuts the wire in several places and then starts to pull it out. There’s not much give so he pulls a little harder and his hand slips, one of the barbs slicing into the skin of his palm.

Zhenya curses as blood immediately begins to well up. It’s a sharp pain and he holds his hand to his chest and breathes, trying to get his emotions in check and the tears to stop welling up in his eyes before he takes a good look at it. It’s not long, but it’s deep, more like a puncture than a cut, and it’s bleeding just enough to be alarming.

He’s not particularly squeamish — growing up playing hockey trained that right out of him — but the sight of so much blood still makes his stomach turn.

He leaves his tools where they are and makes his way up to Irina’s house, his injured hand cradled against his chest the whole way.

In the kitchen he turns the water on full blast and shoves his injured hand beneath the stream. The cold is numbing and, when he thinks it looks clean enough, he pulls it out and blots it with a wad of paper towels. He finds a package of bandages in the bathroom off of the kitchen and hunts through the box for one that’s large enough to cover the wound. He has to use two and he has to overlap them, but he’s satisfied with the bandage he’s created.

Continuing on with the fences with only one hand is out of the question but there’s still plenty he can do inside the house. He takes framed photos off of the walls and wraps them carefully in bubble wrap before tucking them into boxes. He tapes up the boxes and scribbles _“photos”_ on the outside with a permanent marker before he moves on and starts filling up another box.

He’s five boxes in when there’s a knock on the door. A second later he hears the door open and nails click across the floor.

Timmy comes running around the corner, making a beeline toward him. He tries to jump up on the couch but doesn’t quite have the power yet and ends up falling back.

“Hey, G, are you in here?” Sid calls as Zhenya lifts Timmy onto the couch beside him.

“In living room,” Zhenya yells back.

Sid appears in the doorway in his dusty jeans and red polo. He’s holding a plastic bag filled with take-out containers.

“Hey. You know he really shouldn’t be on the couch. We have rules.”

“You have rules at your house,” Zhenya points out as he tries to tape the box shut. It’s almost impossible with Timmy trying to crawl onto his lap. “This is Irina’s house. Think she would be okay with it.”

Sid rolls his eyes but his smile gives him away. “Anyway. I had a job way on the other side of town so I thought I’d swing by the bar and pick up some lunch. I’ve got a few free hours if you want to eat.”

“Is lunch time already?” Zhenya asks, looking up at the clock on the mantel in alarm. It’s quarter to one. Apparently he lost track of time. “Could eat.”

“Good,” Sid says with a smile. “I got burgers and fries, hope that’s okay.”

“Is fine,” Zhenya says as he stands up.

Immediately, Sid frowns and points to his bandaged hand.

“What did you do?”

“Was working on fences and find some old barbed wire. I try to take out and cut my hand.”

“Weren’t you wearing work gloves?”

Zhenya looks away sheepishly. “Made my hand sweaty. Is okay. I put a Band-Aid on.” He holds up his hand and Sid looks alarmed.

“It’s still bleeding. When did this happen?”

Zhenya looks at his hand. The center of the bandages are dark with blood. “Few hours ago.”

“It shouldn’t still be bleeding. Go to the sink and take the bandages off. I’m going to run out to the truck and grab my bag.”

“No, is okay.”

“Geno, I’m serious, go.”

Sid doesn’t leave any room for discussion as he turns on his heels and disappears down the hall.

Zhenya heaves a sigh but does as he’s told, Timmy trailing happily after him into the kitchen.

As soon as the front door opens again and Sid steps in, Timmy is off like a shot, racing to the door to greet him.

“I know, bud,” Zhenya hears Sid says softly. “Give us a minute, okay?”

A tennis ball goes rolling down the hall and Timmy races after it. A second later Sid enters the kitchen with a small bag in his hand.

“The ball bought us a couple of minutes,” he says as he sets the bag down and turns on the warm water.

He asks Zhenya to pull of the bandages while he washes his own hands then eases Zhenya’s hand under the water to wash off the dried blood.

Zhenya flinches as the water hits the wound and Sid is quick to apologize in soft, soothing tones.

“Going to keep hand?” Zhenya jokes and Sid smiles as he cleans out the cut.

“I left my bone saw in the truck,” Sid deadpans as he pulls Zhenya’s hand out of the water and carefully starts to dry it off. “It doesn’t look too bad. I don’t think you’ll even need stitches. I’ll clean it and bandage you up and, as long as it doesn’t get infected, I think you should be good to go. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?” he asks and Zhenya hums as watches the way Sid’s strong fingers work so delicately around the wound. “They’re good for 10 years. Do you think you’ve had one in the past decade?”

Zhenya hums louder.

“Okay, I’m going to call Erik for you. He’s the doctor in town. He should be able to squeeze you in sometime today.”

“Doctor?” Zhenya whines. “Can you just give?”

“No,” Sid says. “Animal doctor for the animals, people doctor for the people.” He places a small square gauze in the middle of Zhenya’s palm and Zhenya hisses.

“Sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” Sid says softly and Zhenya’s eyebrow shoot up.

“Sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” Sid says. “Sorry. I’m so used to talking to the animals, you know.” He quickly wraps a bandage around Zhenya’s hand. “I wasn’t even thinking. I guess it’s just instinct now.”

Sid’s face is flushed from the slip-up and Zhenya is endlessly charmed.

“You’re sweet,” he says and Sid ducks his head. “You make good doctor. Kind of doctor that could give me shot.”

“You’ll like Dr. Gudbranson,” Sid assures. “He’s very … gentle.”

“But Sid.”

“Are you afraid of shots?”

“No. But needles. Who likes needles? No one.”

“Tanger has a whole sleeve of tattoos. That’s a lot of needles.”

“Tanger is crazy.”

“Yeah,” Sid laughs. “He definitely is. So, uh, listen,” Sid says as he wraps a long length of tape around the gauze, securing it in place. “We didn’t really get a chance to talk about last night.”

Zhenya blinks. “Didn’t know we had to talk.”

“I think we should,” Sid says, “to, you know, clear some things up. I just want you to know that I understand that you’re not here forever. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking that you’re going to stay. I get it. So if you want to forget last night ever happened and just move on, that’s fine with me. We can just be friends. But if you want to do it again … I can think of worse ways to spend your spare time here, right? I mean. We were pretty good at that, weren’t we?”

“Yes,” Zhenya says. “Very good.”

“Okay,” Sid says with a nod. He seems relieved that Zhenya agrees with him. “Okay. So. It’s up to you. No hard feelings if you don’t want to.” He cuts another length of tape and wraps it around Zhenya’s hand, pressing down on the end to make sure it sticks. When he’s done he takes a step away and stares down at his feet.

Zhenya has to answer him and he decides the best way to do that is to slide his good hand around the back of Sid’s neck and pull him into a kiss.

Sid’s lips are obscenely soft beneath his own and Zhenya makes a harsh noise in the back of his throat when Sid nips at his bottom lip with his teeth.

He can feel Sid smile into the kiss as he backs Zhenya up more firmly against the counter and his hands begin to wander.

Zhenya sighs happily as he tilts his head to the side so Sid can start to kiss down the side of his neck. It’s perfect and he wants to stand right here forever with Sid’s solid body pressed against his front and his mouth attached to his neck.

It’s heaven but when Sid’s hands settle at the waistband of his jeans with the clear intent to go even farther, Zhenya’s mind snaps back to real life.

“Sid. Wait.”

Sid pulls back, hands still on Zhenya’s hips but his fingers have stopped wandering.

“What’s the matter?”

“God,” Zhenya says as he tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling. “So dumb.”

He feels Sid start to pull all the way away and scrambles to hook his fingers into the belt loop on Sid’s jeans to reel him back in.

“No, no, not you. Me. Can’t do this here, in grandparents house. Feels weird.”

He looks down and sees Sid staring up at him. Pupils blown wide and lips swollen and red. It’s overwhelming.

“Are you kidding me?” Sid asks and Zhenya shakes his head, eyes sliding over to the kitchen table.

“They have breakfast right there. Can’t just …” He trails off and gestures between the two of them. “... right here.”

Sid’s mouth drops open as he cocks his head to the side and Zhenya is dying for another taste of him, but he just can’t. Not right now.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sid says but it sounds more fond than anything.

“Sid,” he whispers. “What if ghosts? What if they can see?”

Sid stares at him, dumbfounded, then immediately bursts into laughter.

“That is _so_ ridiculous.”

“Ghost are real, Sid, I’m not take chances.”

Sid laughs even harder and Zhenya wraps his arms around Sid’s waist and pulls him against his chest.

“Come over tonight,” Zhenya says when Sid calms down. “I make you dinner and then … maybe we go back to your place.”

“Really? Do you even have things to make dinner.”

“Can go to market when I’m in town, pick up some things. Or I just feed you eggs. So many eggs. How Irina deal with so many eggs?”

“She mostly gave them away. I can drop some of them off to her regulars if you’d like.”

Zhenya nods. “That would help. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Now why don’t you unpack lunch while I make a call to Guddy’s office and try to find you an appointment. Marcus is a good cook, but if we don’t eat those burgers before they cool off, they’re trash.”

“Guddy?”

“Dr. Gudbranson,” Sid says. “Guddy is just what some of his patients call him. Guess it kind of stuck as a nickname.”

“You send me to a doctor named Doctor Guddy?”

“You’ll be fine,” Sid says with a wave of his hand as he pulls out his phone and starts to dial. “He’s a very competent doctor. After we eat I’ll head down and see what I can get done on the fences for you.”

“You have time free and you want to work on fences?”

“You already said we can’t fool around. What else is there to do?”

Zhenya pouts and Sid pecks him on the cheek before raising the phone to his ear. “Seriously,” he says. “We have minutes before we have to toss those burgers — hi, Jenny, it’s Sid Crosby. I have a friend that needs to see Dr. Gudbranson. Can you squeeze him in today?”

Sid secures an appointment for Zhenya _sometime after three._

“He’s going to squeeze you in between a couple of other appointments,” Sid tells him as he takes the first bite of his burger.

They eat right out of the styrofoam containers with their knees pressed together beneath the table.

When they’re done Zhenya and Timmy follow Sid down to the fence line, where they sit in the shade beneath the tree and watch Sid work.

“You know you could probably do _something_ to help me,” Sid says and Zhenya holds up his bandaged hand and shakes his head.

“Could hurt further. Is better to wait until after I see doctor.”

“Oh, now you’re looking forward to seeing the doctor?”

Zhenya shrugs and plucks a blade of grass to twirl around in front of Timmy’s face. Timmy snaps at it then rolls over and hits it with his paws.

Later, Sid leaves him with a kiss, directions to the doctor’s office and a promise to bring wine to dinner.

 

The walls in the waiting room of Dr. Gudbranson’s office are brightly painted. There’s a toy bin in the corner and kids magazines on the table in front of him.

Zhenya is seated between a woman rocking a baby swaddled in a blanket and a toddler who won’t stop coughing. He angles his body away from the toddler and toward the baby. He's here for a cut; he doesn’t want to leave with a cold.

“Mr. Malkin?”

Zhenya looks up at the nurse in the doorway. She’s in pale pink scrubs and has a wide and friendly smile, perfect for calming panicked and sick children.

“Come on in,” she says when Zhenya stands up. She leads him through the door and down the hall to one of the small examination rooms. The nurse gives him another smile. “Dr. Gudbranson will be right with you.”

She shuts the door behind her and Zhenya sits down on the exam table, the paper with multi-colored teddy bears on it crinkling beneath him. There are posters on the wall explaining the correct way to cover your mouth when you sneeze and alternate ways to greet someone when you have a cough.

It’s not long before the door opens and a man in a white coat with a yellow smiley face sticker on the lapel walks in. He’s young and handsome, like most of the men Zhenya has met in this town. He pumps the bottle of hand sanitizer on the counter twice into his hands and rubs them together before he looks up.

“I’m Dr. Gudbranson. Nice to meet you. Sid said you had a little accident?”

“You pediatrician?” Zhenya asks and Dr. Gudbranson nods.

“Sid didn’t tell you?”

“He just said doctor.”

“Well, that’s not a lie.”

When Zhenya doesn’t say anything Dr. Gudbranson sighs.

“The nearest GP is 35 minutes from here if you want to make the trip.”

Zhenya really doesn’t want to make the drive. “Is fine,” he says and Dr. Gudbrandsen nods as he picks up Zhenya’s injured hand and carefully unwraps the bandage.

It had started to bleed again at some point. Not a lot, but enough to make the gauze tacky and uncomfortable when Dr. Gudbranson pulls it off.

“Doesn’t look bad,” the doctor muses as he looks it over. “Sid did a good job of cleaning it up. For a vet.”

Zhenya tries to pull his hand away — 35 minutes isn’t that bad.

Dr. Gudbranson doesn’t let go of Zhenya’s wrist. Instead, he laughs and says, “Hold on, I was just kidding. Sid would think it was funny. I’m going to re-bandage it for you and send you home with some antibacterial cream. Apply it twice a day. Keep it clean, keep it dry. If it starts to look swollen or if it gets painful, come back in. I’ll have to treat you for an infection.”

Zhenya nods as Dr. Gudbranson starts to work. He’s gentler than Sid but never calls him _sweetheart_ or any other term of endearment when he flinches.

“You ready for your vaccine?” Dr. Gudbranson asks as he cleans a spot on Zhenya's bicep with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. He picks up the needle. “Sometimes with some of the kids I have to sing a song or something to get them to calm down or distract them. I think it really helps.”

“Don’t need song, not a child — ow! Shit!”

Dr. Gudbranson smiles as he pulls the needle back and covers the injection site with a circular Band-Aid with a dinosaur on it.

“You’re very brave,” he tells Zhenya and reaches over for the bowl of lollipops on the counter. “Would you like a treat?”

Zhenya scowls and rubs at his arm. Then he takes two lollipops and hops off the table.

His arm is still sore when he checks out of the doctor’s office. He knows the market is only down the block so he leaves the car in the parking lot and starts off on foot.

He’s decided to make _kavardak_ , a beef stew he grew up eating for dinner. He found the recipe in one of Irina’s cookbooks, the page dog-eared and clearly often read. He asks Jared to find him the proper cut of meat and picks up potatoes and onions and a few more carrots along with various other staples he needs. Grapes, pears, Brussels sprouts, kale, sweet potatoes and peppers, along with a package of bacon and some freshly squeezed orange juice. It’s too much for him to eat on his own but, if Sid’s going to be around more often, then maybe they’ll both be able to handle it.

“You should check out the bakery,” Jared says as he puts the beef in Zhenya’s cart. “Tristan makes the best pastries.”

Zhenya finds the bakery a few blocks away, just off Main Street beneath a black and white striped awning. The Cookie Jarry is printed on the front door.

There’s a bit of a line when Zhenya walks in but he doesn’t mind waiting in a place that smells like heaven.

It smells like freshly baked bread and cinnamon and spices and chocolate. The display case at the front of the store is filled with different cakes and cookies and breads. Cupcakes with pastel frosting and sprinkles and gigantic chocolate chip cookies and danishes filled with cream cheese or fruit.

There are two men behind the counter wearing matching white aprons. The taller of the two is helping an older woman pick out different flavored macaroons while the shorter one is ringing up a man with a dozen cupcakes.

By the time he reaches the counter Zhenya still has no idea what he wants and he stares at the shorter man when he greets him.

“Can I help you?” the man asks. He looks young and fresh-faced and there’s a bit of flour sticking to his left eyebrow.

“Lots to pick from,” Zhenya says as he scans the display. “You have vatrushka,” he says in wonder as he spots the sweet buns, some topped with blackberries and others with cranberries.

“Yeah,” he answers. “I uh … I actually learned how to make it from Irina. She said she used to make them for her grandson when he was little… they probably don’t taste like how you remember them. I mean, she probably did it better than me but …”

“She help you?”

“Yeah. She was great when I said I wanted to open this place. So supportive.”

“This is your place? So young.”

The guy ducks his head. “Yeah, I know. I’m Tristan.”

“Geno,” Zhenya tells him as he gestures to himself. “But you already know who I am.”

“We don’t get many Russians around here. Plus everyone knows who you are.”

“Small town,” Zhenya says knowingly and Tristan nods.

“So,” Tristan says. “Can I get you a couple of vatrushka?”

Zhenya doesn’t empty the display case, but it’s a close thing.

He doesn’t realize how much he actually bought until he’s trying to carry it all back to the car with him.

The bags are heavy and it’s hard to carry anything in his injured hand. Add in his sore arm and it takes him almost 5 minutes to walk half a block. He has to keep stopping to readjust. He’s shuffling the bags around, trying to get a comfortable grip, when he hears a single wail of a siren.

“Excuse me, sir,” a staticky voice says. “Could you please pull over to the side?” Zhenya turns around to see Tanger leaning out the open window of his patrol car with the radio mic in his hand. He smiles at Zhenya before he hangs it up.

“Look like you could use some help,” he says as he gestures to the bags at Zhenya’s feet. “Can we give you a ride?”

Zhenya looks down at the bags then up at the long stretch of road ahead and regretfully agrees.

Dr. Gudbranson’s office is only a little way up the street. Zhenya can practically see it. But when Tanger signals to take a left instead of keeping straight he knows they’re going to be taking the long way.

“You ever been in the back of a cruiser before?” Flower asks.

“Once,” Zhenya says. “Was young and stupid.” It was a college mistake. He drank too much at a party then agreed to a dare to go streaking … not his finest moment.

“Appreciate the honesty,” Tanger says. “We’re gonna look into that.”

Zhenya nods. He wasn’t formally charged with anything but Officer Letang seems determined.

“We’ve done a bit of Googling,” Flower says as he turns around to look at him through the metal caging. “You never mentioned that you had a super impressive job.”

“Is no big deal.”

“You’re a CFO. Of a huge company. That’s the definition of a big deal. Are you rich? I bet you’re rich.”

“I do okay,” Zhenya answers modestly. He doesn’t like to flaunt his wealth, even when he’s being asked to. He wasn’t raised with money, he knows how it feels to be without it. He would have hated it if someone rubbed their good fortune in his face.

“That’s code for you’re fucking loaded. What is that like, to have money?”

“Is fine,” Zhenya says awkwardly and Tanger snorts as he as he rolls to a stop at an intersection to let a woman walking two huge, black dogs pass before taking a right.

“How long are you going to be staying here? Do big companies like that just let you have all the time off in the world? Is that a perk?”

“Can stay for a while. Decide to take leave of absence.” Zhenya sent the email this morning. It’s clear that it’s going to take more than just a few weeks of vacation to tie up the loose ends here.

“And they just grant that?”

Zhenya shrugs. He’s given so much to this company over the years that it’s time they start to give back. He knows what he’s worth to them and, more importantly, so do they.

“Shit,” Tanger says. “I hope one day I’m rich enough that I can just do whatever the fuck I want.”

“What did you do to your hand?” Flower asks, graciously changing the subject.

“Cut it on old wire. Was out fixing fences — ”

“You were fixing fences,” Tanger interrupts.

“Yes. Have pony that keeps escaping.”

“That is the funniest shit I have ever heard,” Tanger says, but his voice is flat and even. “Did Sid bandage it up for you?”

“Yes. Then I went to Dr. Gudbranson and — ”

Tanger hits the brakes at the next stop sign a little too quickly as he laughs. “You saw Guddy? Our kids go to him. Did you get a lollipop?”

“I got two,” Zhenya says and Tanger laughs again.

“Good man,” Tanger says as he pulls off to the side of the road in front of the doctor’s office. “This good enough or do you need me to walk you to your car.”

“Here is fine,” Zhenya says as he gathers up the bags. “Thank you for ride. Was very nice of you.”

“We protect and _serve,”_ Flower says as Zhenya climbs out of the back.

“I’m sure we’ll see you around,” Tanger says. “Nice hickey by the way.”

Zhenya winces. For a moment there he thought he might escape without this coming up. Slowly, he turns on his heels and looks back to the car. When Officer Letang waves him over he sighs.

“Listen,” Tanger says, “Sid is our best friend.”

“How you know it’s Sid?”

“A certain Swedish birdie told me.”

_Hornqvist._

“Sid’s maybe the best person in this town,” Tanger continues. “And god knows he’s the most beloved. If you fuck with him, it won’t be good for you, do you understand me?”

Zhenya nods and looks past him to Flower. He looks as serious as Tanger sounds.

“Good,” Tanger says. “I’m glad we had this talk. Now you should probably get home. Rest that hand. You might need it later.” Tanger winks. “If you know what I mean.”

 

—

 

Zhenya starts the stew as soon as he gets home.

Chopping vegetables with one hand is harder than he thought it would be but he gets it done.

He browns the beef then adds the onions. Once they cook down he adds the carrots, potatoes and stock and then, according to the notes left by Irina, exactly three bay leaves, 10 grinds of fresh black pepper and a large pinch of salt.

He leaves it to stew, figuring the longer it sits the better. Then he goes upstairs, sets his alarm and takes a nap.

When he wakes he puts the horses and the chickens in for the night and takes a quick shower, keeping his bandaged hand outside the curtain and dry.

He gets dressed and heads downstairs to check on the stew. Just as he’s putting the lid back on the pot there’s a knock on the door.

“Can come in,” Zhenya calls as he backs away from the stove and into the hallway.

Sid is holding a bottle of wine in one hand and Timmy’s leash in the other.

“Hi,” Zhenya says and Sid flashes him a huge smile as he toes off his shoes. “Didn’t hear car.”

“We walked. I figured it would it would tire Timmy out. I hope it’s okay I brought him. I just hate leaving him in his crate for longer than I have to.”

“Of course is okay. Always welcome.”

Timmy wags his tail a few times then sits down heavily at Sid’s feet.

“He seems sleepy.”

Sid leans down an unclips his leash. “Having a puppy is hard work but I’m going to miss it when it takes more than just a short walk to do him in.” He hangs the leash on the coat rack by the door.. “How’s your hand?”

“Is fine,” Zhenya says looking down at the bandage. “Have to keep dry and clean so it doesn’t get infected. Should have said I was going to pediatrician.”

Sid grins. “What difference did it make? You got your shot, didn’t you? And you didn’t even have to drive that far to do it.” He stops and sniffs the air. “It smells good in here. You really cooked.”

“Of course I cooked,” Zhenya says, a little offended. “Am best cook. Come,” he says as he waves Sid into the kitchen. “I make stew. Is all ready.”

“You know, I think I probably ate about 95% of my meals in this kitchen when I first got to town.”

Zhenya looks over his shoulder. “Couldn’t cook?”

“Couldn’t do anything,” Sid admits. “I didn’t really have time to between school and interning and working every odd job I could find around town and also working on the house. I spread myself incredibly thin, but Irina and Anton always made sure I had a hot meal. I don’t think I could have made it without them…I’m sorry,” he says and Zhenya frowns. “I keep talking about them. I feel like maybe that’s not what you want to hear.”

Zhenya shakes his head. “No, no, is good to hear you talk. I miss them,” he says with a shrug. “I had plenty of chances to come visit and I didn’t take. All that time Irina was alone … I could have come here. I chose to work. Is my own fault.”

“It’s not your fault you had a job,” Sid counters. “She understood that.”

Zhenya sighs. That might be true but it doesn’t go far to make him feel better.

“Maybe,” Zhenya says. “Maybe we should start to eat. You tell me if it’s as good as Irina’s.”

Sid makes an appreciative sound when he takes his first spoonful and Zhenya swells with pride.

“Have vatrushka for dessert,” Zhenya tells him and Sid hums around another huge bite.

“So you found the bakery?”

Zhenya nods. “Went there after market.” He stirs his spoon around in the bowl for a moment. “Have lots of bags to carry. Tanger and Flower see me and give me ride back to car.”

Sid narrows his eyes.

“They know about us,” Zhenya says and Sid sighs. “Knew a lot about me, too. Googled.”

“This is what happens in a small town with no crime. Cops get bored and nosey. Sorry they bothered you.”

“No, was okay. Was far from car, hands were full. Was helpful.”

“They interrogated you.”

“Didn’t have to. Already knew.”

Sid cocks his head.

“Horny told him.”

Sid’s eyes narrow.

“I told Horny.”

Sid clears his throat.

“I say wrong thing?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s okay. I don’t care if people know.” Sid leans back in his chair. “It’s just …”

“What,” Zhenya prompts. “Can say.”

“Everyone in this town has a big opinion about my love life. Or lack of it I guess. There aren’t many dating options in this town, so everyone thinks they have to butt in and offer their own solutions. Everyone has a cousin who has a friend who has a friend that is gay and they think they’d be perfect for me. I mean, even Irina tried to set me up with you. I appreciate their concern and all, but I don’t need their help.”

“Maybe If they know we … you know, they leave you alone.”

“No, it’s gonna be worse. They know you’re not going to be here forever. They’re going to think I’m going to get hurt.”

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Zhenya says and Sid reaches out and put his hand on Zhenya’s arm.

“You won’t,” he assures. “We’re both adults. We know what we’re doing. We know what this is. No one else is going to understand that though.” He shrugs. “One of the perks of living in a small town,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll deal with it. It’ll be fine.”

“You sure,” Zhenya asks warily. “If this is problem, we can stop.”

“Do you want to stop?”

What Zhenya wants is to press his lips to Sid’s neck right above the thin skin over his pulse. He shakes his head.

After they eat the stew and the pastries and Zhenya convinces Sid to leave the dishes in the sink to soak instead of cleaning them right away, they head over to Sid’s place.

They walk using the light of the moon to guide them, shoulders bumping and Timmy’s dog tags jingling beside them as he trots to keep up.

By the time they get to the bottom of Sid’s driveway, Sid takes pity and picks him up to carry him the rest of the way.

“He’s going to sleep like a log tonight,” Sid says as they start up the driveway. “He might even make it through the whole night.”

“Would be nice,” Zhenya says, winking at Sid to make him laugh.

In the house, Zhenya waits at the bottom of the stairs while Sid puts Timmy in his crate and locks up the house.

“You could have headed up without me,” Sid says when he finally joins him.

Zhenya shakes his head. “Wanted to do this.” He pulls Sid in for a kiss, deep and dirty, that leaves Sid panting and scrambling to get his hands beneath Zhenya’s shirt.

“Wanted to do that all during dinner,” Zhenya says when they break apart.

“You should have,” Sid pants. “I wouldn’t have stopped you. It’s your own fault you have that weird rule.”

“Is good rule!” Zhenya blurts as Sid laughs and steps past him. He’s halfway up the stairs before he turns around.

“Are you coming or not?” he asks. Zhenya nearly trips over his feet to get to him.

They stumble down the hall to Sid’s room and, by the time they make it there, Zhenya’s shirt is off and Sid’s pants are unbuttoned and unzipped.

“What do you want?” Sid mumbles against Zhenya’s lips. “Anything you want.”

Zhenya sticks his hand down the back of Sid’s jeans, a tight fit between the denim and the swell of Sid’s ass.

He knows exactly what he wants.

“Everything off,” he directs and Sid is quick to comply.

He arranges Sid on his stomach on the bed. He makes sure there’s a pillow tucked beneath Sid’s head and asks if he’s comfortable between kisses to the back of Sid’s neck and shoulders.

“I’m good,” Sid says, hips shifting restlessly against the bedspread. “Just c’mon.”

“Shhhh,” Zhenya says and kisses down the middle of Sid’s back. “Why rush? Have all night, yes?”

“Maybe. If we’re lucky.”

“Feel very lucky,” Zhenya murmurs as he lets his gaze sweep over Sid’s body. “This okay?” He puts his hands on Sid’s ass, finally, and bends down to kiss the base of Sid’s spine, making sure Sid knows exactly what he’s asking.

“Yeah,” Sid exhales on a shaky sigh before he clears his throat. “Yes, yes, Geno.”

Sid gasps and tenses the first time Zhenya’s tongue brushes against his hole.

“Fuck,” Sid bites out and Zhenya immediately leans back.

“Okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sid says as he shifts back. “Just keep going.”

Zhenya snorts. “So bossy.”

“Just shut the fuck up and do that again. Please.”

“Since you say ‘please’,” Zhenya says and presses in with the tip of his tongue.

Sid alternates between low moans and high-pitched whines as Zhenya alternates between the flat of his tongue and the tip, speeding up and slowing down and going back and forth between feather-light touches and more aggressive strokes.

His jaw is just starting to ache when Sid shudders and tries to pull away again.

“I’m going to come if you do that again,” Sid warns. Zhenya readjusts his grip on Sid’s ass.

“Yes,” Zhenya says, pressing a chaste kiss to Sid’s left cheek and then the right. “Is why I do this.”

“I want you to get off, too. What does this do for you?”

Zhenya’s been hard since Sid first stripped out of his clothes. He won’t last long once he gets a hand on himself.

“You have no idea, Sid.”

Sid looks over his shoulder, color on his cheeks and hair a sweaty mess that curls across his forehead. He looks perfect.

“You want to come?” Zhenya asks. Sid nods and hangs his head between his shoulders as Zhenya goes back to work.

Sid comes a few minutes later with his own hand wrapped around his dick and Zhenya’s teeth nipping gently at Sid’s sensitive skin.

“Geno,” Sid says, sounding like he’ll never catch his breath, “you just … you …” He takes a deep breath and rolls over, hooking his leg around Zhenya’s back and pulling him in between his thighs. “Your turn,” Sid says as he reaches out and cups Zhenya’s balls in his hand. Zhenya drops his chin against his chest and groans. “Come on, G,” Sid continues, dragging his hand up and down Zhenya’s dick. “I’m already a mess. Just come on me.”

“Sid,” Zhenya groans out and drops his forehead to rest against Sid’s collarbone and squeezes his eyes shut because Sid can’t look like that and feel like that and sound _like that_ without Zhenya losing it far too quickly.

In the end, there’s nothing Zhenya can do to slow the inevitable when Sid presses his thumb right below the head of Zhenya’s dick with just the right amount of pressure and he comes all over Sid’s stomach.

“Sid,” Zhenya whispers against Sid’s skin.

“I know,” Sid says back to him, rubbing his clean hand up and down Zhenya’s back. “I know.”

Zhenya shifts, taking his weight off of Sid and collapsing onto the bed beside him. “You good at that.”

Sid laughs. “Thanks. Glad you liked it.”

“I like. Definitely like. And you like? Was good for you, you feel good?”

“Yeah, really good,” Sid says, sounding a bit embarrassed. Zhenya touches his arm.

“Been a while since somebody did that to you?”

“Umm, yeah,” Sid says as he runs a hand through his hair. “Forever. Literally.”

Zhenya lifts his head off the pillow to stare at him. “You serious? You never …”

“Nope.”

“Sid. Know you say you don’t hook up much but come on. Never have any guy that offer?”

“I have a friend from college and we hook up sometimes. He’s very — ”

“Bad in bed,” Zhenya finishes and Sid slaps a lazy hand across his chest.

“Vanilla,” Sid says and Zhenya laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s the way he is.”

“Boring. He never make you come like that, right? I’m better? Can admit. I won’t tell him.”

“I don’t think I can draw that conclusion yet,” Sid says and Zhenya rolls his eyes then pushes himself up and over Sid, bracketing him in. “We’ve only done this twice, I don’t have a big enough sample size.”

Zhenya drops an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Sid’s neck and Sid laughs.

“I’m a man of science, Geno. I have to collect more data.”

“You full of shit,” Zhenya says and Sid pats at his hip.

“You’re heavy, get off.”

Zhenya rolls to the side but keeps an arm over Sid’s chest.

“We should clean up. This is getting gross.”

Zhenya frowns. “Mean thing to say in afterglow.”

“You’re not the one with a sticky stomach. Come on,” he pats at Zhenya’s arm. “Let me up. I’ll be right back.”

With a huge sigh Zhenya lifts his arm and Sid slips out of bed.

He hears the shower turn on and the shower curtain being pulled back as Sid steps in.

“I have a spare toothbrush in here if you want it,” Sid calls and Zhenya groans as he stands up. “Under the sink,” Sid tells him. “Toothpaste is on the counter.”

Zhenya finds six toothbrushes under the counter and takes them all out. “You have visitors over a lot,” he asks, showing off the bouquet of brushes when Sid sticks his head around the curtain.

“Everytime there’s a coupon for them I pick up a couple. They’re good to have around.”

“Coupon,” Zhenya repeats with a smile and Sid pulls back the shower curtain.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he says as he throws a palmful of water at Zhenya. It splashes him square in the chest and drips down but Zhenya can’t find it in him to care, not when Sid is standing in front of him, all warm and wet. “What are you doing?” he asks as Zhenya sets the toothbrush down on the edge of the sink and steps forward. “Don’t. Don’t kiss me until you’ve brushed your teeth. You’re going to get your bandage wet.”

“Have to change it anyway.” Zhenya bullies his way into the shower and backs Sid up against the cool tiles.

The fight melts out of Sid as soon as Zhenya gets his lips on his neck.

For the second consecutive night, Zhenya falls asleep in Sid’s bed.

He sleeps soundly, only waking up once during the night when he thinks me might hear Timmy whining from downstairs.

He lies awake and listens but all he can hear is Sid snoring softly beside him. He’s asleep on his stomach with his arms spread out beneath the pillow and damp hair curling softly against the nape of his neck. Zhenya brushes his fingers across his sleep-warm skin. Sid turns his head and blinks himself awake.

“What is it?” he mumbles and Zhenya smiles at how drowsy he sounds.

“You snore,” Zhenya says and Sid huffs.

“I do not.”

“How you know? You asleep.”

“Because,” Sid says slowly, eyes already falling closed. “Because,” he says again, “I …”

He’s asleep between one breath and the next and it doesn’t take but a few seconds for his mouth to fall open and the first hitching snores to start.

Zhenya rolls onto his side to get closer to him and drags his fingertips through Sid’s hair until he drifts off again.

The next time Zhenya awakes there’s light shining through the windows and the space beside him is empty.

He stretches, hands bracing against the headboard so he can get a good arch to his back. He hears something clang on the floor beneath him followed immediately by a muffled “What did I just tell you?” and then Timmy barking.

Zhenya laughs to himself as he throws the covers back and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The hardwood is cold beneath his bare feet but, thankfully, Sid has stacked his clothing from the night before in a neat pile on top of the dresser.

He feels overdressed when he finally makes it downstairs and finds Sid in boxers and a ratty old T-shirt in the kitchen. He’s standing in front of the stove with a spatula in one hand and a coffee mug in the other, Timmy sitting at his feet and staring up at him, hoping something will drop.

“You let me sleep in,” Zhenya says. “Animals going to be mad at me.”

“It’s not that late,” Sid answers back. “They can deal for a little bit while you eat breakfast.” He nods to the table already fully set with plates, forks, butter and syrup. “Sit. Pancakes are almost done.”

“Pancakes,” Zhenya says as he pulls out a chair and sits down. “You always make big breakfast?”

“On Sundays I do.” He flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto the plate. “It’s my day off. No scheduled appointments, just emergency calls, and hopefully there won’t be any of those.” Sid sets the plate stacked high with pancakes on the table and Zhenya spears two onto his own plate before reaching for the butter. Sid places a mug of steaming tea down in front of Zhenya, followed by a jar of honey, before he finally takes a seat across from him. “What are your plans for the day?”

“House stuff,” Zhenya says as Sid grabs a couple of pancakes and proceeds to drown them in syrup. “Weather is going to be nice for a few days. Should paint outside. Barn should be painted. Deck, too.” He jams a huge bite of pancakes into his mouth before he can list off anything else. It’s too early to be overwhelming himself with the work he needs to do.

“I could help,” Sid offers and Zhenya quickly chews and swallows.

“Bad way to spend day off, Sid.”

“I don’t mind, really. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Zhenya huffs a laugh. He’s sure doing nothing is better than painting but, if this is how Sid wants to waste his time, who is he to stop him?

“Going to be outside all day. Can fix farmer’s tan.”

Sid pins him with an unamused look. “I’m not painting without a shirt on.”

“Then what is point?” he asks and grins at Sid until Sid breaks down and smiles back.

After breakfast Zhenya follows Sid back upstairs so Sid can find him something he can paint in.

“There might be something in Irina’s closet,” Sid had said while they were loading the dishwasher. “Something of Anton’s.”

Sid was probably right, but that would have involved going into her room and he isn’t ready for that yet.

“Can borrow something from you?” he asks and thankfully Sid had nodded, ever the gracious host.

“This might be a little big,” Sid says as he tosses a folded up T-shirt at him. “It was a freebie at one of the veterinary conferences I attended a few years ago. Kind of a one-size-fits-all scenario.”

Zhenya unfolds the shirt and frowns. He’ll swim in it for sure but he thinks it’s kind of cute, with an outline of a dog and a cat on the front.

“I don’t have pants that’ll fit you … wait, hold on.” Sid disappears farther into his closet and comes out holding a pair of bright blue scrubs. He tosses them at Zhenya. “Those will fit.”

Zhenya stretches out the elastic waist and his frown deepens. “Big fashion statement. Hope no one sees me.”

“I’m the only one painting with you and I don’t care how you dress.”

Sid grabs a pair of jeans for himself, faded and with holes at the knees, and swaps his current ratty T-shirt for another. He looks good, like a disheveled handyman, and it ticks boxes Zhenya didn’t even know he had. It must be obvious to Sid how he’s feeling because he puts one hand in the middle of Zhenya’s chest and pushes him back.

“You have animals to feed and then we have to get to town so you can pick out paint. There’s no time for that.”

“Can be quick,” Zhenya whines but he knows Sid’s right.

“Save it for tonight. If you have enough energy.”

Back at Irina’s Zhenya feeds the horses while Sid lets out the chickens.

Zhenya apologizes for his lateness and slips Magic an extra piece of carrot.

“Sorry for making you wait,” Zhenya says as Magic crunches on the carrot. He scratches Magic’s forehead and laughs when Magic immediately starts nosing around for another piece. “Don’t be greedy,” he warns but digs into his pocket and finds another for him anyway.

Main Street is quiet when Sid pulls his truck onto it.

“Most people are at church,” he explains. “It’s the best time to shop.”

Rusty is leaning heavily on the counter when they walk into the hardware store. He looks tired and a little annoyed that he has customers this early but the tense line between his brows smooths out when he sees Sid.

“I can’t believe you left Timmy in the truck,” he says. “Go get him.”

Sid rolls his eyes but starts back toward the door. “Geno is here for paint. Can you point him in the right direction?”

“That’s my job,” Rusty says then points down Aisle 4. “About halfway down you’ll find all the samples. Bring up what you want and I’ll mix it up for you. Any questions you have, I’ll be happy to answer.”

Geno starts down the aisle just as the door opens and Sid and Timmy come back through. He turns around briefly to watch Sid lift Timmy up onto the counter so Rusty can fawn over him then continued down the aisle.

Sid and Rusty’s conversation about how fast Timmy is growing and how they need to set up a play date with Rusty’s dog is pleasant background noise while Zhenya stands in front of the samples and frets.

He’d like to keep the exterior of the house yellow but there are about 30 shades to choose from. Same for the red of the barn and even the white for the trim.

“You’ve been back here for a long time,” Sid says, leaving Timmy with Rusty and joining Zhenya in front of the paint samples.

“Too many options. What if I choose wrong one?”

“I don’t think there really is a wrong one,” Sid says as he studies the chips in Zhenya’s hand. “Except maybe this one.” He pulls out a fluorescent yellow one and wrinkles his nose. “This one is bad, but all the others look okay. Just pick whatever you like.”

“You say like so easy,” Zhenya mumbles as he weeds through the samples in his hands, narrowing it down to three yellows and two reds. “Who needs 40 different shades of white?” he asks. “Haven’t even thought about inside colors.”

“One thing at a time,” Sid says as he pats Zhenya’s back.

He decides on a soft yellow called Sunflower Seed, a bright red called Flirt Alert, and a white called Snowbound.

He buys brushes and rollers and paint trays. He gets the name of a company that replaces windows and another that cleans chimneys from Rusty.

“They’re good guys,” Rusty says as he rings him out. “They don’t overcharge and they don’t take forever to get things done. Give them a call.”

“They paint houses, too?” Zhenya asks and Rusty laughs.

“No. Pretty much everyone does that themselves around here. You could probably hire a couple of high schoolers to help you out. They’re always looking for a little extra cash.”

Zhenya isn’t about to do that. He’s sure they’re good kids but he’s not putting his grandmother's home in their hands.

“I’m helping you,” Sid says. “It’ll go faster than you think.”

“Think you lie,” Zhenya answers and Sid smiles brightly.

“For sure.”

Zhenya only gets about one-third of the way done on his side of the house when he decides painting isn’t for him.

It’s boring and hard to do with only one good hand — and a little lonely since Sid decided it would be best to split up and then meet in the middle.

“Sid,” he yells and only has to wait a moment for Sid to holler back. “Going to hire high schoolers.”

“What? Why?”

Zhenya sighs and walks down to the far side of the house. Sid’s up on the ladder, working his way from top to bottom while Timmy happily chews on a bully stick in the grass a few yards away.

“Sid,” Zhenya starts. “I’m bored.”

“You can’t be bored if you’re painting.”

“Can’t paint with only one hand,” he says, holding the paintbrush and tray in his good hand and holding up his bandaged hand for Sid to see. “Can’t climb ladder.”

“You’re really milking this injury all of a sudden. Why don’t you do the lower parts and I’ll do the higher parts?”

“Why don’t you come down and we make out for little while?”

Sid throws his head back and laughs but he’s quick to climb down the ladder. Zhenya sets his brush and paint tray down then eagerly takes Sid’s and places it beside his own. Then he takes Sid by the shoulders and backs him up against the house so he can box his body in with his own.

“Lucky I haven’t painted that part yet,” Sid says as Zhenya leans in.

“Wearing painting clothes, why you care?” Zhenya says in reply and Sid rolls his eyes before tangling his fingers in the front of Zhenya’s shirt and pulling him in.

It’s not hard for Zhenya to find a couple of high school kids willing to put in the work at his house. He asks Sid to ask around and within a day he’s gotten a call from a group of boys who apparently are trying to save up for a car.

Unfortunately, school and after-school commitments mean they won’t be free until the following weekend, but they promise Zhenya they’ll do a great job and beg him not to hire anyone else.

Zhenya makes a promise to them and hopes that the weekend will be rain-free.

In the meantime, Zhenya decides to strip the wallpaper off the walls.

It’s ugly and offensive and he feels like getting it off will be such a monumental step in the recovery of the house.

He asks Rusty for tips and watches YouTube videos that load so slowly he puts _“call cable company”_ on the top of his to-do list. The 4G service this far out is dreadful and he’s gone far too long without Wi-Fi. He’s actually afraid to check his work email.

Under Rusty’s advisement he picks up a scoring tool, a putty knife and several drop cloths to lay across the floor. Rusty suggests sponging a mixture of warm water and fabric softener onto the wallpaper and then peeling it off with the putty knife.

Zhenya soaks the wall and lets it sit for a few minutes before he goes in with the knife. He starts in the corner and rips off a small patch, no bigger than the size of his palm. The next piece is about the same size and the piece after that is smaller. He frowns and soaks the wall again, water and fabric softener dripping down onto the drop cloths and over his feet. He lets it sit for longer this time, nearly 10 minutes, but when he tries peeling it off again, he gets the same disappointing result.

“It’ll come right off,” he says, mimicking Rusty’s accent before dropping it. “Bullshit.”

It’s a slow process, wetting the walls and letting it soak and then peeling off the paper inch by inch. He’d pay the high schoolers double to do this, but he can’t imagine how long it would take them and working only on the weekends just isn’t going to cut it.

So he keeps working, stopping only to slide open the window above the sink when the smell of fabric softener starts to overwhelm him.

He takes a deep breath of cool air and, even though it’s only early October, he swears he can smell the faintest hint of snow.

The horses have all grown shaggy winter coats and he’s looked out into the pasture and mistook Magic for a black bear, all round and fuzzy, at least a half-dozen times by now.

He goes back to the wall and runs the putty knife beneath the paper. A good-size strip peels off but, instead of white plaster underneath, there’s dark blue with gold leafing. He leans in to study it and scratches his fingernail against it. It bunches together and he hangs his head.

There’s a second layer of wallpaper beneath the first. It looks like they tried to strip it off, gave up halfway through, and decided to cover over it. What turned out to be quick work for them is now twice the work for him.

“Why?” he asks the empty house. “Why would you do this to me?”

The only answer he gets is a faint _meow_ floating in from the open kitchen window.

When he looks out he sees his grandmother’s cats sitting on the porch railing. He calls to them, making little kissy noises, and they look up, eyes wide and cautious.

“Pretty kitties,” Zhenya coos. He’s forgotten their names but he doesn’t think they’ll mind. “Getting cold out. Almost ready to come in?”

They stare at him. Then the white one jumps down, stretching lazily on the porch before walking off toward the front of the house with the orange one jumping down and following after.

He meets them at the front door, where they both sniff at the screen but don’t make any move to come in when he opens it.

He crouches down and sticks his hand out and they skitter back to the edge of the stairs, wary of the stranger who’s now living in their house.

“Is okay,” he soothes. “Won’t hurt you.”

The white one approaches slowly and sniffs at his fingertips. When Zhenya shifts closer to pet its head, it jumps back and they both run halfway down the stairs.

“Okay,” Zhenya says as he stands up. “Won’t push. You hang out on porch until you decide I’m not monster.”

He goes back to the kitchen, only to be interrupted in his work nearly 10 minutes later by the sound of scratching on the door.

When he opens it this time, they run off again. And again the time after that.

“Not going to stand here with door open all day,” he tells them after the third go. “Have work to do.” They stare up at him, ears pricked forward and tails swishing back and forth. Zhenya rolls his eyes and groans. “Ridiculous,” he complains as he jogs into the kitchen to grab a chair so he can prop open the screen door. “There. You come in when you feel like and stop interrupting me.”

The white cat curls its body around the leg of the chair while the orange one tucks its legs beneath its body and sits down like a loaf of bread on the porch.

“Take your time,” Zhenya says to them as he turns around to return to the wallpaper.

He tries to make a game of it. It’s the only way to stop himself from going crazy with boredom and frustration.

He pulls off a strip of wallpaper then tries to make the next strip he pulls off longer. It’s a shitty game, one he finds himself losing more than winning, but it passes the time suitably enough.

He’s nearly done with the first wall and steps back to admire his work, only to spot something out of the corner of his eye.

The cats are sitting side-by-side in the hallway, watching his every move. Zhenya slowly puts the putty knife down but, as soon as he takes one step toward them, they’re down the hall and out the door.

Zhenya decides to ignore them after that. No matter how close they come, tiptoeing over the drop cloth or rubbing their heads against the bucket of fabric softener and water, he doesn’t even look at them.

He works and they wander, jumping onto the taped-up boxes in the living room or batting a fallen piece of wallpaper. He wants them to feel comfortable again. This was their home long before Zhenya’s name was written into the will.

It’s nearly noon when Zhenya hears a truck rumble up the drive.

The cats are asleep in a sunbeam that’s falling across the hardwood in the hall beside the stairs and Zhenya has himself wedged on the counter between the sink and the stove, chipping away at the paper beneath the cabinets.

Zhenya hears Sid whistle and then call “come here, boy,” to Timmy and the cats lift their heads at the thumping sound of the puppy barreling up the front steps.

“Hey, G,” Sid calls. “You know you left your front door open? Timmy — no!”

Zhenya turns just in time to see Timmy fly down the hall and the cats spring to their feet. They hiss, backs arched and hair standing up on end, but that only seems to rile Timmy up even more as he spins in one, tight, quick circle before chasing the cats up the stairs.

Sid’s right behind him, taking the stairs two at a time and there’s a momentary scuffle before Sid reappears with Timmy in his arms, being held like a big baby.

“What did we just talk about?” Sid asks him and Timmy squirms, still panting as he looks up the stairwell. “I’m really sorry, Geno,” Sid says as he joins him in the kitchen. “I didn’t know they were in here and Tims is still working on his manners with cats. He thinks everyone wants to be his friend and he has no idea of his own size. I’m really sorry.”

“Is okay,” Zhenya says as he puts the putty knife down. He flexes his hand, working out a cramp. “They take forever to come in, I figure they just run out when I go to close door. This way I know they’re inside. Maybe they find some place nice upstairs to settle down. Is quiet up there. Forget names, what are they?”

“Toby is the orange one, Fiona is the white one. Even so, he shouldn’t be chasing cats like that.” He bounces Timmy in his arms and Timmy smiles happily up at him, oblivious to the lesson that Sid wants him to learn. Zhenya reaches out and runs his hand over Timmy’s head. He can’t believe how big he’s getting. He’s nearly double the size he was a little over a month ago. Time moves so fast.

“It looks good in here,” Sid says and Zhenya has to laugh.

“You are bad liar, Sid. Worst.”

“You could be outside painting. Would you rather be doing that? You’d probably be done by now.”

“Is reason for you being here?” Zhenya asks and Sid laughs and leans in to press a quick kiss to Zhenya’s forehead while Timmy licks the underside of his jaw. Zhenya could never stay mad at them if he tried.

“I brought lunch.” Sid tells him. “So if you want to take a break …”

“What kind of lunch?” Zhenya asks, already swinging his legs off the counter and hopping down.

Sid brought pizza and they eat it out on the porch with Timmy’s nose pressed to the screen door as he scans the inside of the house for Toby and Fiona.

“I don’t think they’re coming down, bud,” Sid tells him as he breaks off a small piece of crust and tosses it down to the end of the porch to get him away from the door. “I wasn’t lying before. It does look good in there.”

Zhenya meets him with a flat look and Sid hangs his head with a laugh.

“It _will_ look good in there, how about that? At least it’s coming along.”

“So slow. Only done with one wall in one room.” He slumps back against the spindles that hold up the railing, crust dangling between his fingers. “So much more work left.”

“Why don’t you come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner. Take your mind off all this.”

“You going to be serving something more than food,” Zhenya asks and Sid grins and shuffles closer to him on the steps.

 

That night Sid gets him off with his lips wrapped around his cock and two fingers buried deep inside him.

He feels boneless after he comes, exhausted and spent in the best way, but he’s alert enough to see how hard Sid is, cock straining against his underwear.

“Come on,” Zhenya says muzzily as he runs his foot up and down Sid’s thigh dragging him closer. “Do whatever you need, take it, want you to.”

“I’m okay,” Sid says softly. He wraps his hands around Zhenya’s knees and unwraps his legs from around his waist. “I’m good.”

“Not good, can see you not good.”

“You seem too tired to really be into it,” Sid says as he smooths his hands down Zhenya’s thighs. “I’m okay. I’ll take a shower, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you get in bed?”

Zhenya stretches and crawls to the head of the bed so he can pull back the covers and climb in.

“I’m guessing you’re too tired for some TV,” Sid says as he strips off his underwear.

Zhenya watches him go, completely entranced by Sid’s ass until it disappears into the bathroom.

“You remind me, have to call cable company. Forgot to do today.”

After Sid had left to go to his next appointment, Zhenya had gone back to work in the kitchen. By the time he was finished with that, he only had time to shower and change before he was expected at Sid’s for dinner.

“What’s wrong with your cable?” Sid calls from the bathroom.

“Nothing. Need internet. Nothing loads here. Haven't even checked emails from work yet.”

“Yeah, service out here is pretty shitty. You can use my Wi-Fi if you want. Password is Harbour8787. Capital H and it’s spelled with a U.”

“Hero,” Zhenya says as he types the password into his phone and it connects to the internet. All at once his emails download and he frowns at the icon — 527 emails. There’s a part of him that wants to delete them all without even looking. He’s a continent away. What are they going to do to him?

However, his more responsible side wins out and he starts scanning through the subject lines. Thankfully most of them seem harmless. Mass emails to everyone in the company that don’t actually have anything to do with him or messages he’s been copied in on that already have been taken care of by someone else. There are a few spam emails that managed to slip through the filtering and at least two dozen from Sergei, the last one sent 18 hours ago with the subject line reading _“stop ignoring me asshole.”_

Zhenya laughs quietly to himself then scrolls down to open up the first email Sergei sent nearly three weeks ago.

It’s an offer on the house and the land from some real estate mogul that Sergei once did some legal work for. He’s offering to buy everything as is for a very respectable price and, as Zhenya scrolls through the emails, he figures out why. He wants to tear down the house and subdivide the land for housing. He would get back nearly double what he would be giving Zhenya. It’s a smart plan, one that Zhenya always assumed is what would happen, but seeing it written out like this makes something cold churn in his stomach.

“Geno?”

Zhenya starts and looks up from his phone. Sid’s standing at the end of the bed fresh from the shower. His hair is damp and ruffled from running a towel over it and the collar of his shirt is dark with water.

“I asked how the cats were.”

“Didn’t see them,” Zhenya lies. Truth is they had been sitting outside Irina’s closed door, clearly confused and looking for her. It hurt Zhenya’s heart but they were still skittish around him so all he could do was crack the door open and let them inside. The lie is easier than telling the truth about why the door was closed in the first place. Why he hasn’t been in there. Why the guilt about this whole situation feels like it’s eating him alive.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” Sid says. “Probably just hiding somewhere until they feel more comfortable around you. Everything okay with work? You have a weird look on your face.”

“Work is fine,” Zhenya says distractedly. “Just emails from lawyer.”

“Is something wrong?”

Zhenya shakes his head and opens the next email and finds an offer from a second buyer that offers double what the last one did.

“Is fine. He is looking for buyers for Irina’s place. Keeps sending them to me for approval. Is good offer. All the land and house. Wants to tear it down, build new one.”

“I didn’t even know the place was on the market yet.”

“It’s not. He just trying to hurry me. Wants paycheck, you know? Lawyers.” Zhenya rolls his eyes and sets the phone down. Now that Sid is here he can go to sleep. Except Sid doesn’t move from the foot of the bed. He doesn’t look up from where he has his fingers wrapped around Zhenya’s ankle over the covers.

“Everything okay with you,” Zhenya asks, wiggling his toes to get Sid’s attention.

“I’m fine,” Sid says but he sounds distant. “Just tired all of a sudden. Long day, I guess. It’s catching up to me.”

“Know how you feel,” Zhenya says as he watches Sid move to the head of the bed and pull back the covers. “Have to do it all over again tomorrow. Not looking forward to it.”

Sid gives him a tight smile and fiddles with his alarm clock before lying back against the mattress. There’s a good 6 inches left between them that Zhenya doesn’t know what to do with. They usually touch while they sleep, an arm thrown over a waist or a face pressed to a shoulder. The small gap feels miles wide.

“Can you turn off your light?” Sid asks as he reaches over and flicks the lamp off on his night stand, bathing his side of the room in shadows.

Zhenya nods and rolls over to switch his light off and the entire room plunges into darkness.

“I can make omelettes in the morning,” Sid says, “if you want.”

Whatever’s going on can’t be too bad if Sid’s still offering to cook for him. “You have bacon?” Zhenya asks, flipping over to his side to face him. He can just barely make out Sid’s lips tugging up at the corner.

“Of course. When do I ever not have bacon?”

“Just asking,” Zhenya asks then takes a risk and leans in to press his lips to Sid’s cheek. “Good night.”

His body still feels heavy with sleep and he knows it won’t take long for him to drift off. Right before he does, Sid shifts beside him and drapes his arm over Zhenya’s chest.

Zhenya runs his fingertips up and down Sid’s arm and falls asleep smiling up at the ceiling.

—

Over the following week, Zhenya gets the rest of the wallpaper stripped off and bagged up to be taken to the dump in Sid’s old pickup.

He patches up the gouges he accidentally made with the edge of the putty knife while the cable tech hooks up the Wi-Fi and the chimney sweep Rusty advised him to call takes care of the chimney. When they’re finished Zhenya drives into town and spends far too long in the hardware store sending frantic texts to Sid as he tries to pick out colors for the interior.

 _You sent me that color twice now_ , Sid texts and Zhenya nearly drops his phone in his haste to text back.

_Different color!!! All different colors!!!_

_Don’t let this be like the exterior color. Just pick one. Don’t overthink it. Don’t drive yourself crazy._

Zhenya thinks it’s far too late for that.

_How long have you been in the hardware store?_

_Rusty has grey hair now. How is your day?_

While he waits for Sid’s response he makes his final decisions, opting for muted, subtle colors, ones that will go with various styles of furnishings or can be easily painted over.

That seems like the smartest idea.

Sid sends him a photo of what looks like an entire herd of baby goats, some of which are wearing sweaters, and Zhenya coos down at his phone.

 _Having much better day than me,_ he texts. When Sid sends him a smiley face emoji in return, warm affection blossoms in Zhenya’s chest.

_Have to get going. I’ll stop by later to see what colors you picked out._

_And help me paint?_

_Bye G!_

Zhenya shakes his head and brings the paint samples up to the counter.

He also creates a fairly lopsided relationship with the cats.

They wake him every morning, exactly 10 minutes before his alarm is set to go off, by screaming outside his bedroom door to be fed.

They don’t stop yelling until he opens the door. Then they race downstairs and meow pathetically at him until he opens a can of wet food and splits it between their two dishes.

He’s still not allowed to touch them or even really look at them or they take off and go back into hiding somewhere in Irina’s room, but it’s progress.

Loud and annoying progress.

—

Bright and early Saturday morning, Zhenya greets the trio of high school boys on his front deck.

Kyle, Corey and Tyler look ready to work in beat-up sneakers and ratty old sweatshirts. Zhenya tells them where he’s stored the paint and brushes out in the shed and warns them to be careful on the ladder before he goes inside for another cup of tea. He has yet another long day ahead of him and he’ll need all the caffeine he can get.

By the time he’s finished with his tea the cats have wandered off so he spreads the drop cloths out across the kitchen floor and tapes around the cabinets and windows with blue painting tape. He opens all the windows to try to ward off getting a headache from the primer and paint fumes.

According to Rusty, each room should be primed and then will need two coats of paint. He wants to get the first floor done today and start the second floor tomorrow. During the week he’ll go over any spots he missed plus the trim. He still has more work to do, but getting the walls finished will be a weight off his back.

He puts in his earbuds, turns up his music and starts to paint.

It feels like he breezes through the kitchen, moving on to start on the living room while the first coat dries. It helps that he’s only interrupted twice, once when Kyle comes in to ask him where the bathroom is and again by Sid, who sneaks up behind him, taps him on the shoulder and almost makes him drop his paint roller.

“Jumpy today,” Sid says with a grin and Zhenya shakes his head.

“Why you so quiet? Scare me.”

“Why is your music so loud? If you can even call that music,” he says, wincing at the house music that’s blasting out of the earbuds.

“You just uncultured,” Zhenya says as he digs his phone out of his pocket and turns the music off. “Where is Timmy?”

“I left him out with the boys. The outside looks great, G, they’re doing a really good job.”

“And inside?”

“Okay, I guess,” he says with a shrug and Zhenya pushes at his shoulder. “It looks great,” Sid amends, stepping into Zhenya’s space for a kiss. “I love the color in the kitchen. Kinda like a blueish grey?”

“Is called Freedom Found and took me half an hour to decide.”

“Well it looks good. It all looks good.” He pauses and looks around the room. “I’m really proud of you for fixing this place up. I know it’s a lot of work, even though I don’t really know why you’re bothering to do it …”

“What you mean?”

“Why do all of this if whoever buys it is just going to knock it down?”

Zhenya scrunches his face up in confusion. “No one is knocking down house, Sid.”

“But the offer from your lawyer .., you said it was good.”

“Yeah, say it was good, not that I’m going to take. Not going to let anyone tear down house. Irina and Anton love too much. Will draw up contract when I sell it if I have to.”

Sid pushes into Zhenya’s space again for a deeper kiss this time, the force of it causing Zhenya to stumble back and trip over a fold in the drop cloth. His back hits the wall, still tacky with paint. When he groans in protest he can feel Sid smile against his lips.

“Aren’t you glad you’re wearing my scrubs now?” he asks.

When Zhenya drops his hands to Sid’s hips and makes like he’s going to flip them, Sid goes rigid and immediately starts to push back.

“Don’t you dare. I have to get back to work and I don’t have time to go home and change.”

“Cows and goats don’t care if you have paint on you,” Zhenya points out then bursts out laughing when Sid decides to fight dirty and go for his ribs.

They push and pull until Zhenya decides enough is enough and drags Sid into his arms for a kiss that takes the fight out of both of them.

They kiss until they hear someone clearing their throat. When they break apart, one of the boys is standing there looking red in the face.

“I’m sorry Mr. Malkin, Dr. Crosby. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have come in if I knew you were … “ He gestures to both of them and Sid untangles his arms from around Zhenya’s waist.

“Kyle, it’s fine. What’s up?”

Kyle runs a hand over the back of his head and keeps his eyes on the ground. “Um. The guys sent me in to ask if lunch is going to be soon?”

Zhenya hadn’t even thought about lunch. He looks to Sid and Sid looks back like he can read his mind.

“Geno’s just about to get started on it,” Sid says and Zhenya’s mouth drops open. “He’ll call you guys in when it’s done.”

“Okay, thank you,” Kyle says as he backs out of the room. “Thanks, I’ll let you guys get back to …” He waves his hand at them again. “You know, whatever. Sorry again!”

He turns on his heels and flies out of the house and Sid waits for the screen door to bang shut before he turns to Zhenya.

“I hope I was reading the look on your face wrong and you do have lunch for those boys.”

“Sid, didn’t even think about lunch for me.”

“You have to feed these kids, Geno,” he says as he turns toward the kitchen.

“I pay them. Isn’t that enough?”

Sid throws a disapproving look over his shoulder as he rounds the corner. When Zhenya finds him, he’s bent over looking in the fridge.

“Did you have plans for this ground beef?” he asks. When Zhenya tells him no, Sid straightens up and presses the package to Zhenya’s chest. “Well, now you do. Make some hamburgers, throw some cheese on them, slap them on a bun.” He reaches up and grabs the bag of soft, brioche rolls Zhenya bought at the bakery off the top of the fridge. “I have a bag of frozen french fries in my freezer. I’ll run home real quick then drop them off. Get the oven preheated.”

“You not staying for lunch?” “No, I have another appointment to get to. I think you can handle making some burgers.” He pats Zhenya on the shoulder. “You can pay me back for the fries tonight.”

Zhenya cooks the burgers and fries and he and the boys eat out on the porch.

The house looks good, fresh and clean even with only the first coat down.

“Doing great job,” Zhenya tells them. “Moving faster than I am inside and I only do small rooms.”

“If we finish with the barn early tomorrow we can help you inside,” Corey says. “Unless Dr. Crosby will be here to help you.”

Zhenya narrows his eyes as Kyle jams Corey hard in the ribs with his elbow.

“Don’t know what Sid is doing tomorrow,” Zhenya says and Tyler sets his burger down.

“So, are you and Dr. Crosby … ” He trails off and makes a rude gesture with his hands and Zhenya scoffs.

“Not appropriate talk for kids.”

“Dude, we’re all 17.”

“You ask when you 18.”

“You know that wasn’t a no. Nice.” He holds his fist out toward Zhenya and Zhenya stares down at it, mildly horrified at the state of today’s youth.

The boys work until it gets dark but Zhenya works longer inside.

It’s nearing 9 when Sid finally comes to collect him and basically has to pry the roller from his hand.

“I think it’s time to take a break. Have you eaten since lunch?”

Zhenya nods as he flexes his hand. It’s a little sore from being wrapped around the handle of the roller for the majority of the day.

“Had peanut butter sandwich a little while ago.”

“Barely a meal but I’ll allow it.” He looks up at Zhenya. “Maybe you should just go to bed. You look exhausted.”

“No, no, want to go home with you. Been thinking about all day.”

“You’re going to fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.”

“Then maybe we don’t make it to pillow,” Zhenya says and Sid raises his eyebrows in challenge.

In Sid’s shower, Sid takes special care to wash the dried on paint off the back of Zhenya’s neck, wondering aloud how it even got there before he presses his lips to Zhenya’s clean skin.

They jerk each other off slowly beneath the spray, until Zhenya’s knees feel weak and his toes are curling against the tile beneath his feet.

He sags into Sid and Sid takes his weight, petting a hand up and down his back.

“Told you I stay awake,” Zhenya mumbles into Sid’s collarbone and Sid laughs as he gently eases him out of the shower.

Naked and still a little damp, Zhenya collapses onto Sid’s bed then spreads his arm across it as an invitation for Sid to join him.

“I’m putting on sweats first,” he says as he pulls a clean pair from the drawer and Zhenya scoffs.

“Why bother? I just take them off of you in the morning.”

Sid rolls his eyes and pulls them up loose around his hips. “It’s getting cold.”

“I keep you warm.”

“You’re always cold. Up,” he says as he pulls at the blankets beneath Zhenya. “Under the covers.”

Zhenya heaves a sigh but obliges then throws one leg over Sid’s hips when Sid climbs in beside him.

“Boys want to know if you’ll be over tomorrow.”

“That was the plan,” Sid says as he flicks off the light. “If that’s okay. Were they okay, you know, with us?”

Zhenya lifts his head at the unsure tone backing Sid’s words. “Of course okay. Why not okay?”

“I don’t know. Some people are funny sometimes. It’s not always clear how they’ll react.”

There’s more to that, Zhenya knows, but it’s late and he’s tired and Sid doesn’t sound like he really wants to get into it.

“They okay,” Zhenya assures him. “Try to fist bump me. Seem excited.”

Sid snorts and presses a sleepy kiss to Zhenya’s temple. “They’re good kids,” he says quietly. “There are a lot of good people in this town.”

 

In the morning, Corey, Tyler and Kyle are painting the barn when Zhenya and Sid pull up the drive. They look like they have to physically hold themselves back from whistling when they both climb out of Sid’s truck.

“Here early,” Zhenya calls to them then whispers to Sid. “Probably trying to get more money.”

“You have to pay them for overtime,” Sid says as he holds out his hand. “Let me have the keys. I’ll open the house, gate Timmy off in the living room, and feed the cats while you take care of the horses and chickens.”

“Cats are loud,” Zhenya warns are he pulls the house keys out of his pocket. “Yell at you to hurry up.”

“I think I can handle it.” Sid takes the keys but, before stepping away, he leans up and presses a quick kiss to Zhenya’s mouth. The boys erupt in catcalls.

“Back to work,” Zhenya shouts but he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face.

Upstairs, he and Sid start on opposite sides of the hallway and work toward each other then start on the guest room, taking breaks to take Timmy out and check on the boys and the barn.

Zhenya orders pizza for lunch then moans about the fact that he has to drive into town to pick it up.

“Did you really think someone would deliver all the way out here?” Sid points out. He has flecks of white paint in his hair from painting the ceiling and the salt-and-pepper effect looks so good on him it that takes Zhenya a moment to answer.

“Would tip well,” he finally says and Sid threatens to chase him out of the room with the paint roller.

After they eat, Sid and Zhenya clean up the dishes while the boys head back outside.

Zhenya is loading the dishwasher and thinking about how he still needs to replace the appliances when Sid clears his throat.

“So, while you were gone I checked out Irina’s room, you know, to see how much we needed to paint in there.”

Zhenya straightens up.

“It looks exactly like how she left it. You haven’t taken anything off the walls or packed up any of her clothes … were you planning on doing that?”

“Yes,” Zhenya answers gruffly as he closes the door to the dishwasher with more force than it should be able to withstand. “Have to.”

“Okay,” Sid says slowly. “Do you know when? Because we can’t paint in there today, the wallpaper is still up.”

“I will work on it.”

“I can help you, though. I’m here now.”

“Sid,” Zhenya says as he steps forward and puts his hands on Sid’s shoulders. “I will take care. Don’t worry.” He squeezes Sid’s shoulders then lets him go and starts for the stairs. “Still have lots more work to do. Still have to finish guest room and bathroom. All the trim and touch-ups. Busy day.”

He takes the stairs two at a time and tells himself that it’s not running away if he expects Sid to follow after.

—

Zhenya spends much of the next week alone in the quiet of the house.

Sid is booked up giving last-minute wellness checks before the cold weather truly blows in. Apparently it’s not a lot of fun to trek through two feet of snow to vaccinate a herd of cattle.

Zhenya doesn’t mind the quiet. It gives him an opportunity to slow down and take his time on the trim around the windows and baseboards, to touch up the sage green that had found its way onto the ceiling in the bathroom downstairs while he was painting the walls.

Irina and Anton’s room stays as is, but Zhenya can feel the pressure building behind the door as the days go on.

Temperatures have dipped below freezing by mid-week and he complains to the cats as they eat and he pulls on layer after layer of clothing so he can go out and feed the horses and chickens.

There’s a thick layer of frost on the ground that the horses sniff at while Magic drops down and rolls.

“Glad one of us like,” Zhenya says as he brushes the ice crystals out of Magic’s mane.

Despite the cold, Zhenya spends a lot of time outside, painting the porch railings and the shed and working in the barn, anything to put space between him and the room that he still needs to clean.

The horses will need more grain soon and he noticed that he was scraping the bottom of the chicken feed barrel when he fed them this morning. He’ll have to go into town and pick more but, to do that, he’ll have to borrow Sid’s truck.

He’s a little surprised to see Sid’s work truck still sitting in the driveway and the lights on in his house.

He expected Sid to already be on with his day by now but, when he knocks on the door, he hears Timmy bark and Sid’s footsteps round the corner from the kitchen.

“Why are you knocking?” he asks as Zhenya lets himself in. “You can always just come in.”

Zhenya doesn’t get a chance to answer because Timmy is wiggling at his feet begging to be petted.

“Growing so big,” Zhenya says as he kneels down to rub at his belly. Timmy’s gangly legs kick up at the air.

“Like a weed,” Sid says as he steps back into the kitchen and Timmy springs up to follow him. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Haven’t seen _you_ in a while,” Zhenya counters as he follows. Sid has bread in the toaster and coffee brewing. “Been busy?”

“Early spring and late fall are my busiest times. It’s been crazy. After spending my day with a hundred head of cattle, I don’t really have it in me to hook up, you know?” Zhenya tries to keep his expression impassive. He doesn’t need to hook up. Truthfully, he’d be happy just to fall asleep beside him, not that he’d ever admit it.

“Understand,” Zhenya says. “Been busy, too. Was going to go into town but need your truck. Okay if I borrow?”

“Of course, I already said you could use it whenever you want.” He tips his head at Zhenya as the toast pops up. “Are you okay? Do you want breakfast?”

Zhenya shakes his head. “Already eat. Just going to get truck.”

“Wait,” Sid says before Zhenya can even lift his foot to leave. “I’ve got a pretty light workload today, comparatively. Do you want to come over tonight?” He reaches out and tangles his fingers in the spaces between the buttons on Zhenya’s coat. “I’ve missed you.”

Zhenya’s missed him, too, more than he’s allowed himself to think about. “Can help you cook dinner,” Zhenya tells him and Sid’s eyebrows arch in interest before Zhenya steps close for a kiss.

It takes the truck twice as long to warm up and Zhenya has to scrape frost off the front windshield but the heat works well enough to warm his fingers by the time he pulls into an open spot in front of the feed store.

Zhenya tells the woman behind the counter his name and who he is and she knows exactly how much of what feed he needs.

She disappears into the back to get help loading up his truck and Zhenya pokes around the store. He picks up several small cat toys that crinkle in his hands and a bag of apple-flavored treats for the horses.

He’s contemplating a roosting perch for the chickens when someone says his name.

“You are Geno, aren’t you?”

The woman is slim with long brown hair. She’s familiar but Zhenya can’t quite place her.

“I’m Vero,” she says as she holds out her hand. Zhenya puts down the perch and takes it. “I’m Marc-Andre’s wife.”

It clicks for Zhenya. The woman at the funeral with the toddler in her arms.

“You make casserole,” he says and she smiles, wide and pretty.

“Yes, that was me. I’m so glad you like it, or at least that’s what Sid told me.”

“Was very good. Sorry I didn’t tell you myself. Should have called or sent note, something.”

Vero waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I know you must be very busy taking care of the house and all those animals. Honestly, I should have stopped by to welcome you to town but things got so crazy with the kids starting school and I had to get used to sending my little one off to preschool … it was a lot. It’s so good to finally meet you in person now, though. I’ve heard a lot about you from Sid. He seems very fond of you.”

“Sid is a good guy,” Zhenya says, “good neighbor. Very helpful.”

Vero hums and Zhenya knows that she knows what he and Sid have been up to.

“Anyway,” she says, mercifully changing the subject, “I’m just in town putting up flyers for the Fall Festival.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her bag and hands it to him. “It’s next Saturday night in the center of town,” she explains. “It’s a lot of fun, there’s a lot of food and games and crafts. We have a live band this year and all the money is donated to the school, for new art supplies and sports equipment, whatever they need. I’m surprised Sid didn’t mention it to you.”

“Maybe just forgot. Been very busy lately.”

“Understandable,” Vero says. “Well, this is me mentioning it to you and hoping that you come. It really is a ton of fun and what else do you have to do on a Saturday night around here?” She pats his arm. “It was nice to meet you, officially. You should swing by for dinner some night, you and Sid. It’s an open invitation.”

“Thank you” he says. “Would be fun.” If just for the look on Flower’s face when he opens the door to see him. “Maybe will sometime.”

“We look forward to it,” she says kindly but she sounds careful not to push. “Well, I should get going and let you get back to your shopping. You should get that.” She points to the perch. “Our chickens love it.”

Zhenya leaves the feed store with a truck full of animal feed, the treats for the horses, the toys for the cats, the perch for the chickens — and the flyer for the Pine Falls Fall Festival tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

That night, after dinner and drinks and while Sid is lying boneless and sated beside him, Zhenya reaches over and pinches at the slight give of skin just above Sid’s hip.

Sid grunts and turns his face against the pillow so he can frown at Zhenya.

“What?” he grumbles and Zhenya smooths his hand over Sid’s skin.

“Ran into Vero at feed story today. Very nice.”

Sid’s eyes slip closed again. “Yeah, she’s great. Too good for Flower and he knows it.”

Zhenya smiles and spreads his hand over Sid’s lower back. “She tell me about festival next weekend. Thought it was funny you didn’t tell me.”

“I would have when it got closer.”

“Is next week.”

“I’m sorry,” Sid huffs but there’s a teasing light in his eyes. “Are you that popular that you need more than a week’s notice to make plans?”

“Yes,” Zhenya laughs. “Very popular. You just lucky I decide to spend all this time with you. Break hearts all over town.”

Sid snorts and rolls his eyes. “So. Did you want to go?”

“With you?”

“I don’t really see the point in taking two cars,” Sid says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can pick you up.” He shifts his body up and over Zhenya’s, slotting their legs together as he leans down to brush a kiss across his lips. “Take you home.”

Zhenya smiles into the next kiss.

 

In the morning, Zhenya wakes up with a tickle in his throat. It feels better after a cup of hot tea so he kisses Sid goodbye and heads back to Irina’s.

He goes downhill fairly quickly after tending to the animals.

His throat feels sore and he starts to get congested, making it hard for him to breathe. He still manages to sand down and repaint the cabinets in the kitchen and the bathrooms but, by the time he’s done, he’s exhausted and his joints have begun to ache.

He only means to take a quick nap on the couch but when he wakes it’s mid-afternoon and Sid is crouched down beside him.

“Hey,” Sid says gently. “Sorry to wake you.”

“You not,” Zhenya says. He tries to sit up but quickly decides it’s too much work and flops back down.

“You had me worried. You weren’t answering your phone. I thought maybe you climbed a ladder or something and fell. I had to come check up on you.”

“Think maybe I have flu.”

“I think maybe you have a cold,” Sid says as he presses his hand to Zhenya’s forehead.

“How you know?” Zhenya snaps, burrowing farther into the mountain of blankets on the couch. “You not people doctor.”

“Well, I can get you an appointment with Guddy, but you gave me such a hard time about seeing him last time ...”

Zhenya scowls then turns his head and coughs into his pillow until his throat burns and his lungs ache.

“Have you taken anything yet?”

Zhenya shakes his head.

“Okay,” Sid says softly, pushing his fingers through Zhenya’s hair. “Come on up.”

“Up,” Zhenya complains but Sid’s already looping his arm around Zhenya’s waist and pulling.

“Up to bed. You’ll be more comfortable up there. I’ll tuck you in and then I’ll run to town and get you some medicine. Maybe some soup.”

“Don’t have to, Sid.”

“Well I can’t just leave you here to waste away, can I?”

He gets Zhenya to his feet and, even though he’s perfectly capable of walking on his own, he still leans heavily into Sid’s side as they make their way up the stairs.

Even though he probably should, Zhenya doesn’t protest when Sid fluffs his pillow and tucks the blanket securely against his side.

He doesn’t have it in him to fight and, even if he did, he doesn’t think he would. It feels too nice to have someone taking care of him like that, asking him if he’s warm enough and kissing his forehead.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Don’t you have work?” Zhenya asks, eyelids suddenly heavy and closing on their own.

“Don’t worry about it. Just try to get some rest.”

Zhenya hums in response as he listens to Sid’s footsteps fade away.

The next time he wakes it’s to a hand gently shaking his shoulder and a heavy, warm weight lying across his feet.

“Looks like I didn’t have to worry about leaving you alone,” Sid says as he sits down on the bed by Zhenya’s hip. Zhenya looks down the bed to where Toby and Fiona are curled up over his feet. “They look pretty comfortable.”

“First time they come to see me when they don’t want food.”

“They’re warming up to you. I told you it would happen. They just had to get used to you.”

Their heads perk up at the sound of crinkling paper as Sid opens the brown paper bag in his hands.

“I got you medicine and soup,” he says as he pulls out a bottle of Nyquil and a small container of soup. “It’s chicken noodle. Sorry I couldn’t find any rassolnik or borscht.”

“You know rassolnik?” Zhenya asks then he scrunches up his face. “Terrible accent, Sid, the worst.”

“Irina and Anton tried to teach me but I could never get the hang of it. They said I was too far gone with my Canadian accent. Sit up, please. I don’t want you to spill.”

“Don’t want to disturb cats.”

“I’m sure they’ll get over it,” Sid says and Zhenya scootches himself back on the bed while the cat's make an annoyed _mrrrpppp_ sound at having to move.

He takes the medicine and eats about half of the soup and protests when Sid starts to tuck him back into bed.

“Have to feed the horses and put chickens in.”

“I’ll do it,” Sid tells him. “Once that cold medicine kicks in you’re going to be out. After that I’ll get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“Could stay,” Zhenya says. He blames the cold medicine for his brain not being able to catch up to his mouth. “If you want. Could stay here tonight. Unless you worry about getting sick.”

Sid laughs but strokes his hand through Zhenya’s hair. “After everything we did last night I’d say it’s too late for me. You really want me to stay?”

Zhenya nods, pushing his head farther into Sid’s hand. “Sleep better when you next to me,” he admits and Sid’s hand stills. “Don’t have to, Sid, already do so much.”

“Would it be okay? Is it even allowed? What will the ghosts think?”

Zhenya frowns in confusion and looks up at Sid. His brain is foggy and it takes a few moments for him to figure it out.

“Been staying here for long time now. No ghosts. Plus we just _sleep._ Nothing else.”

“No, nothing else. You look like a disaster.”

“Mean,” Zhenya says as he buries himself deeper beneath the covers. “But can still stay.”

Sid smiles down at him and curls his fingers around Zhenya’s ear. “I’ll be back,” he says.

Zhenya tries to fight off sleep until Sid comes back but his eyelids are heavy and the medicine was strong and he gives in to the desire to just drift off.

He only wakes up when Sid pulls back the covers to slip in beside him.

He smells like soap, clean and fresh from the shower, and he’s only in a T-shirt and boxers.

Zhenya is cold but he can feel that the room is warm, which means Sid’s been fiddling with the thermostat.

“Is late?” Zhenya asks and Sid shakes his head.

“Not too bad. I ran home and packed an overnight bag and grabbed some stuff for Timmy. Then I put everyone in for the night, took Tims for a walk and showered.”

“Where is he?”

Sid jutts his chin toward the door. “He’s in his crate sleeping.” He pulls the covers up and over both of them and finds Zhenya’s hand with his own. “Go to sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Zhenya sleeps soundly, either from the medicine or from Sid, who stays close and lets Zhenya tuck his face into the curve of his neck the entire night.

He feels better when he wakes, except for the fact that he’s alone. Even the cats have abandoned him.

When he ventures downstairs, Zhenya finds Sid cooking eggs at the stove, Fiona and Toby eating their breakfast in their usual spot beside the fridge, and Timmy looking like he’s barely restraining himself from pushing them out of the way and finishing their food off for them as he sits next to Sid’s feet.

“Good morning,” Sid says as he turns around. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Zhenya tells him. “Throat still feels sore.”

Sid nods and sets the spatula down so he can pick up a mug on the counter next to the stove. It’s still steaming and the ceramic warms Zhenya’s hands when he takes it from him.

The tea is heavy on lemon and it soothes the scratchiness in his throat on the way down.

“Is good,” Zhenya says. “You very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Taking care,” Zhenya says. “Being nice.”

“It’s kind of my job to take care of sick things,” Sid points out. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Are you feeling well enough to eat?” Zhenya shrugs, noncommittal, but sits down and pokes at the plate of scrambled eggs that Sid sets in front of him.

“Little surprised you still here,” Zhenya admits before taking another sip of tea. “Thought you’d be at work by now.”

Sid shifts in the chair across from him and spears a bite of his eggs with his fork. “I actually decided to take the day off.”

Zhenya carefully sets down his mug. “Can just do that?”

“Jake can cover. We had a fairly light schedule today, nothing out of the ordinary. He can handle it. He’s a good kid.” Sid shakes his head. “He’s not a kid, I should stop saying that, even though it makes me feel old. He’s very capable. He’ll be fine.”

Zhenya nods because he feels like Sid needs the reassurance. “Can stay here, help me clean out gutters.”

Sid frowns. “No, no way. You’re still sick.”

“But am feeling better and have work to do.”

“Did you ever think that maybe this cold is your body’s way of telling you to slow down a bit? If you’re not 100 percent then you shouldn’t rush things. Take it easy today.”

Zhenya feels like he’s been working nonstop ever since he got to Canada and, before that, time off was sparse and far between. “So,” he says, “what do we do instead?”

“I brought my laptop. We could watch movies, catch up on TV.”

“And that’s it?”

Sid narrows his eyes. “You’re not very good at taking time off, are you?”

“Been in school or working since I was 18. Didn’t take many breaks.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one either, but it’ll be good, I promise.”

Sid has never given him a reason not to believe him.

After they eat, Sid stays behind to clean up the kitchen while Zhenya heads upstairs to shower.

It’s arresting to see Sid’s toothbrush and razor on the edge of the sink beside his own but he pushes down the feelings and steps into the shower.

Sid still hasn’t returned by the time Zhenya comes out of the shower, dressed in clean sweatpants and a T-shirt with sleeves long enough for him to pull over his fingertips.

The cats have returned, however, Toby stretched out over Sid’s side of the bed and Fiona curled into a tight ball by the foot of it.

He gets into bed carefully so he doesn’t disturb them then waits, thinking about the things he still has left to do.

By the time Sid comes in with his laptop under one arm and snacks and drinks in the other, Zhenya is contemplating the floor.

“You think I should do dark stain or light after I sand hardwood?”

“I think you should probably stop thinking about that right now,” Sid says as he climbs into bed, rolling his eyes when Toby doesn’t immediately move when he nudges him. Finally, Toby rolls over and Sid slips his legs beneath the covers and flips his laptop open. “What do you want to watch first?”

They watch “Moana”, despite Zhenya’s protests that it’s a kid’s movie.

“It’s good,” Sid assures. “I’ve watched it like, a million times while babysitting Tanger and Flower’s kids, and I never get sick of it. Plus you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Because it’s for kids.”

Sid clicks _play_ and ends the discussion.

Zhenya has to admit that the storytelling is strong and the animation is beautiful, but he spends more time trying to find the most comfortable spot for his head to rest on Sid’s shoulder than paying attention to what’s going on on the screen.

“Do you want to watch something els?” Sid finally asks and Zhenya shakes his head, his cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of Sid’s shirt.

“No, no, is fine. Just getting comfortable.”

Sid shifts and lifts his arm so Zhenya can tuck himself move fully against his side.

“Clingy,” Sid says softly and Zhenya answers by wrapping his arm around Sid’s waist.

“You’re comfortable,” he says, “like a big, soft pillow.”

“I don’t know about soft,” Sid mumbles as Timmy jumps up and puts his front paws on the side of the bed. “Go lie down, bud,” Sid says but Zhenya leans over Sid’s body and tries to pick him up. “He’s not supposed to be on the bed.”

“Maybe in your house,” Zhenya says as he struggles to haul Timmy onto the bed after he decides it’s more fun to be dead weight than to help him. “No rules here.”

“I can’t promise he’s going to be good with the cats,” Sid says, unsuccessfully dodging Timmy’s tail as Zhenya pulls him up onto the bed.

Timmy fumbles around on the bed for a moment before he plops down between them facing the foot of the bed so he can watch Fiona and Toby while his tail swishes back and forth.

“See,” Zhenya says as he scratches his fingers down Timmy’s back. “He’s good boy.”

Sid holds his hand up to block Timmy’s tail from hitting him. “Yeah, this is great.”

“Is sick day,” Zhenya says, reaching over to pinch at Sid’s cheek. “Supposed to be relaxing for everyone.” He continues to pat his hand through Timmy’s fur, shocked at how big he’s gotten since Zhenya first saw him. “How big do you think he is going to get?’

“About eighty, ninety pounds.”

Zhenya’s hand still in Timmy’s fur. “Is big. You sure he’ll get that big?”

Sid nods. “Look at his feet. He’s going to be huge.” Sid gives him a sidelong glance. “Is something wrong?”

Zhenya chews at his bottom lip. “No, nothing wrong. Just not good with big dogs.”

Sid frowns. “What does that mean? Are you afraid?”

“No, not afraid — ”

“You’re going to be afraid of Timmy?”

Timmy turns his head at the sound of his name, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“Not afraid,” Zhenya insists. “When I was little we had neighbor with huge dog. Gigantic. Could have been a wolf, honest. Barked all the time. Looked very mean. Never felt okay with big dogs after that.”

Sid nods then covers Zhenya’s hand on Timmy’s back with his own. “Well, I promise Timmy isn’t a wolf, but if you start to feel uncomfortable around him then I’ll leave him in his crate when you come over.”

Zhenya hates the thought of that, of Timmy being locked up in his own home just because of his own childhood fear.

“You never had a dog of your own growing up?” Sid asks and Zhenya shakes his head.

“Had a cat. Small calico. Very pretty, very friendly.” He wiggles his toes under the covers and Fiona lifts her head to track the movement just like his cat used to. “I think Timmy will be okay. Doesn’t seem very mean.”

Timmy flops down onto his side then rolls over onto his back to Zhenya can rub his belly.

“I don’t know,” Sid says. “Looks pretty vicious.”

“You have pets when you were a kid?”

Sid nods. “Yeah, lots of them. Usually dogs.” He looks at Zhenya. “Big ones that we took to the lake with us in the summer.”

“You never talk about it.”

“About what?”

“When you were little. Or your family. You know lots about mine but I don’t know anything about yours.”

“You never really asked and there’s not really much to say.”

Zhenya finds Sid’s shin with his toes and kicks lightly. “You have parents?”

Sid makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Yes, I have parents.”

“They still together?”

Sid nods. “Yeah, still living in the house I grew up in. I have a younger sister, too. She’ll graduate from college next year.”

“Big gap between you.”

Sid hums. “It was nice, you know, having that. It was like I had my parents to myself for a long time. I wasn’t jealous of the new baby or anything.”

“Not at all?”

“No,” Sid says with a scowl that makes Zhenya laugh. “I love my sister. I was never jealous. It sucked to move so far away.”

“Then why did you?”

“I told you, I had to go where I was needed. There was nothing for me at home.”

“Yes, okay,” Zhenya says as he pushes himself up so he can look down at Sid. “But is not like you couldn’t go somewhere closer. Quebec is big and much closer than here. Could have found something there. You come all the way out here. Had to have reason.”

“I felt like we needed some space,” Sid admits.

“Moana” is still playing in the background and Zhenya reaches over and closes the laptop. This doesn’t feel like the type of conversation to have with a Disney movie as the backdrop.

“I came out when I was in high school and it was, I don’t know ... my parents didn’t kick me out of the house or anything, but I could tell they weren’t exactly comfortable. Things were different. I know that they still loved me, I never doubted that, but it was like they didn’t know how to act around me. Like they were afraid they were going to say or do the wrong thing. It’s was just too much stress for everyone. So, as soon as I could, I left. I think the distance did us good, things are better now. I go home when I can, they’ve been out here … I don’t know what would have happened if I had stayed. Maybe things would have boiled over.” He looks down and laces his fingers through Zhenya’s. “I think maybe this is where I was supposed to be.”

“Is good that you told them,” Zhenya says as he gives Sid’s hand a squeeze. “I never tell my mother. Family was already so small, if I lost her, too … but, lose her anyway. Sometimes I think she died without knowing who I really am, but at least I know she loves me.”

Sid’s face twists. “Geno, that’s … I’m sure she would have still loved you.”

Zhenya imagines she would have, but the fear of her not was too great at the time. “Only person I ever tell is Irina. Boyfriend break up with me, had to tell someone, so I call her. Tell her _everything,_ then she tries to set me up with you.”

Sid laughs. “I remember that. I came over for breakfast and she basically ambushed me with photos and stories about you. I felt like I knew you before I even met you.”

“Wish I had visited,” Zhenya admits quietly, “see them one more time. Always going to regret that.”

“You’re here now,” Sid says. “And you’re doing such a great job with the house and the animals, they’re all happy and healthy. They — Irina and Anton — would be so proud of you. I know that.”

Zhenya can’t blame it on his cold when his eyes begin to water and he frantically wipes his nose with the sleeve of his T-shirt.

Sid leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Do you want to keep watching the movie or take a nap?”

“Nap,” Zhenya says and Sid sets his laptop down on the nightstand beside the bed.

It’s a bit of a struggle to find a comfortable position with the cats and Timmy taking up most of the leg room but they find a way to slot together with Sid taking extra care to pull the covers up and around Zhenya’s shoulders.

The world outside the bedroom windows looks grey and flat, the air cold with the promise of snow floating along on the wind. But, inside, tucked away in his grandparents’ guest bedroom, everything is warm and soft.

Zhenya wakes with a start a few hours later. Sid and Timmy are gone and Zhenya lifts his head when he hears something fall to the floor from across the hall. Zhenya immediately tosses the covers off of his body and stumbles out of the room.

Irina’s door is wide open and, when he sticks his head in, he sees Sid standing in the closet with cardboard boxes at his feet like none of this bothers him. It shouldn’t. He doesn’t carry around the guilt that Zhenya has saddled himself with. Sid was there for Irina whenever she needed. He wasn’t thousands of miles away turning his back on his only family.

“What are you doing?” Zhenya asks and Sid looks up.

“Hey, shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”

“What are you doing?” Zhenya asks again. He’s still standing in the doorway, not fully committed to coming in yet.

“I wanted to get a jump on things for you,” Sid explains as he takes a flannel shirt off the hanger and folds it before placing it in one of the boxes. “The closet seemed like the hardest thing to tackle so …” He trails off with a shrug. “I don’t know if you want to keep any of this stuff or not. It’s mostly stuff so old it’s about to fall apart, but I think Irina’s wedding dress is back here — ”

“Get out.”

Sid frowns and slowly puts the empty hanger back in the empty closet.

“Geno — ”

“I said out. I said I would do this.”

“I know,” Sid says calmly. “But I just thought — ”

“Don’t have any right to come in here and go through things. This is not your house, Sid.”

“I know that.”

“Not your family, you not in will, you just neighbor.”

“I’m — ” Sid starts but his mouth snaps shut as the weight of Zhenya’s words hit him. “Yeah,” he says with a nod of his head. “I’m just a neighbor.” He pats his thigh and Timmy wiggles out from under the bed, looking dusty but happy and completely unaware of the tension around him. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Sid carefully slips past Zhenya, careful not to touch him, and disappears into the guest room. He comes out a moment later with his shoes on his feet and his laptop under his arm. He doesn’t make eye contact with Zhenya, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest and watches Sid head down the hall and into the bathroom. He packs his bag, throws it over his shoulder and calls for Timmy, who obediently hurries after him.

“I hope you feel better,” Sid says before he starts down the stairs and Zhenya stands there, unmoving, until he hears the front door open and close and Sid’s truck start up.

Then he crawls back into bed and pulls the covers up over his head.

He overreacted, he knows this, and as he lies in bed and stares up at the ceiling with Toby curled up on his chest, he knows how easy it would be to fix.

He could call Sid or he could just go over there and tell him exactly what he’s feeling and why he’s feeling it. Sid is a good person. He’s understanding and sympathetic. He’d forgive him, Zhenya thinks. Things could go back to normal.

But the shame and embarrassment bores itself deep down in Zhenya’s gut and the desire for things to be _normal_ fights against the voice in his head saying that this is for the best.

Zhenya isn’t going to be here forever. He’s going to re-home the animals and sell the land and the house. He’ll go back to Russia, to his old life, his _real_ life. He’ll leave all this behind, including Sid.

There has always been an expiration date on … _whatever this is_ between them. All Zhenya did was speed it up.

It’ll be easier to leave this way, thinking Sid hates him.

With the help of a few more rounds of medicine and plenty of sleep, he’s able to shake off his cold.

Despite feeling better, he doesn’t feel much like getting work done around the house. He has a few projects that should only take hours to finish but instead end up taking him days.

He installs new fixtures in the cabinets in the kitchen and bathrooms and finally cleans out the basement, packing everything into boxes and making the tough but necessary decisions about what he should toss, donate or keep.

He loads up the boxes into his rental car, a tight fit that makes him miss Sid’s old, beat-up truck, and makes the ride into town.

He drops off a few boxes at the church to be donated and a few more at the dump. He takes the rest to the post office, where he waits in line to send the boxes back home.

He messes up his address on the form he needs to fill out to get everything back to Russia and needs to ask for another. With no one home to accept packages at his apartment, he’s been sending everything to his office. He’s sure Mrs. Petrov has had the delivery person stack everything neatly in one corner of the room and she probably already has a plan in place for an easy and stress-free way to get everything back to Zhenya’s apartment when he comes home.

He misses her, the realization hitting him cold and sharp as he slides the correct form across the desk and answers the last few questions the postal worker has for him. Mrs. Petrov is really the only person in the whole world that he has to miss him. It makes him ache. It makes him feel lonely. It makes him feel like shit that the only communication he’s had with her has been in the form of a few rushed emails asking her to update his out-of-office message on his voicemail.

He’ll need to call her, after he finishes his errands and works up the courage to actually dial the phone.

It’s a quick trip to the market, where he loads up on essentials, and a slightly longer trip to the hardware store, where he picks up the sander Rusty had ordered for him to do the floors.

After, he buys way too many pastries at The Cookie Jarry and eats half of them on the way back to Irina’s. Once there, he puts the groceries away then moves every bit of furniture out of the dining room. It’s the room he uses the least, eating all of his meals at the kitchen table or, occasionally, on the couch in front of the TV. It’s the most logical room to start in but, after clearing it out and rewatching the video he found on YouTube with step-by-step instructions on how to refinish a floor, he decides to take a break and eats the rest of the pastries right in the middle of the dining room floor.

It’s late in Moscow. Mrs. Petrov already will have gone home, so Zhenya calls her home phone. He’s only done this once before, when he was working late couldn’t find the original copy of a very important document. He had called her in a panic and she, of course, had the answer he needed to calm down.

He’s hoping she’ll do the same now.

Mrs. Petrov picks up on the third ring and says, “Mr. Malkin, I’m just about to sit down for supper,” as a hello.

Zhenya sits up quickly enough to make him momentarily dizzy and, in the few seconds of silence, Mrs. Petrov heaves sigh.

“Mr. Malkin, my dinner.”

“I’m sorry,” Zhenya says, squeezing his eyes shut then opening them again. “I’m sorry for bothering you at home. I can call back tomorrow during office hours. I’m sorry, enjoy your dinner.”

Mrs. Petrov sighs again and clucks her tongue. “As long as you’re here we might as well talk. Is everything okay? Do you need me to find anything or send anything to you. I’ve been going through your emails very thoroughly. I don’t believe I’ve missed anything.”

“No, no. I don’t need anything. This isn’t about work I’m just …” He trails off and sighs. “I think I just needed someone to talk to. I’m sorry for not calling earlier.”

“It’s understandable, Mr. Malkin. I’m sure you’ve been very busy. How is the house coming along?”

Zhenya looks around the empty room. “It’s coming. I’ve gotten a lot of things done but there’s still more to do. I’ve had a lot of help. There’s a neighbor, he’s … he was very close to my grandparents. He’s a veterinarian. He’s been helping me with the house and the animals.”

“Well, that’s very nice of him.”

“He’s nice,” Zhenya says. He takes a deep breath and lays back down on the floor. “He’s nice and he’s smart and kind. Don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Mrs. Petrov is quiet for a moment. “It sounds like you’re very fond of him.”

Zhenya’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“He’s — ” Zhenya starts then stops then digs the heel of his hand into his eye. “I think you should know, I want to tell you — ”

“You’re not coming home again, are you?”

Zhenya drops his hand from his face. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay there, in Canada, with him.”

“Mrs. Petrov — ”

“I’ve been working for you for a while now. I think I know you pretty well. I know how your voice sounds when you talk about someone you like or don’t like, no matter what words you say. I’ve never heard you sound like that. You sound like you care. Like you’d miss him if you left.”

“I don’t … _Mrs. Petrov — ”_

“Zhenya,” Mrs. Petrov counters gently and Zhenya squeezes his eyes shut. It’s been so long since he’s heard someone call him that. “I have been with you for a while now. I know you. I’m still here.”

“I can’t stay here,” he finally says. “I don’t know how he feels.”

“Have you asked him? Have you talked about it?”

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” Zhenya explains. “It was just supposed to be fun. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Oh, and now you’re so sure?”

“I’ve said some things. Mean and untrue things. There’s no reason for him to feel anything good toward me right now.”

“Have you apologized?”

Zhenya picks at the hem of his jeans. “No.”

Mrs. Petrov hums. “Maybe try that then. Just tell him that you were wrong and you are sorry and you miss him. If he doesn’t accept your apology, then maybe it’s time for you to come home.”

“I don’t know if I know where that is anymore.”

“It sounds to me like you do.”

Mrs. Petrov thankfully changes the subject then. They talk about her grandchildren and her husband and how the rest of their coworkers have been.

“You need to do what’s right for you,” she says when they begin to say their goodbyes. “Whatever that might be and with whomever that might be.”

After they hang up, Zhenya sits in the middle of the floor until the sky darkens outside the window and the cats start screaming at him for their dinner.

—

Zhenya spends the next few days working on the floors. He tries to concentrate solely on sanding and stripping and staining but he can’t stop his mind from wandering.

There’s a chance that he could be happy _here._ He could just _stay._ But he’d be giving up everything he built for himself back in Russia. He’d be leaving the place where his mother raised him. He’d be leaving _her_. It seems like an awful lot to give up for _a chance_.

By the time he’s finished the floors in the dining room, living room and kitchen (all a lovely, warm, honey color) he’s only come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want to leave things with Sid the way they are.

Even if they never sleep together again, Sid’s become too good of a friend for things to end like this.

If Zhenya ends up leaving, at least he and Sid can leave things on good terms.

On Saturday night, Zhenya bundles himself up and heads for the center of town.

He has to park several streets over and walk. It’s blustery and cold and he wraps his coat tighter around his body until he hits the square.

There are lights hanging from the trees and wrapped around lamp posts and traffic signs making everything look warm and cozy.

There are booths set up with different fall-themed games; a ring toss around traffic cones that are painted to look like candy corn, bobbing for apples, and a bean bag toss with the board painted to look like a jack-o-lantern. There’s a pumpkin-carving station and people are selling kettle corn and candy apples and hot chocolate. A large hay-bale maze stretches out for a block.It’s crowded and noisy, with a live band playing, and it takes Zhenya 20 minutes of searching before he finds Sid.

He’s sitting at a gift basket-covered table with Vero and one of her children, the same one who ran into Sid the day of the funeral. She has a pumpkin painted on her cheek and she’s telling Sid a story with big hand gestures as Sid nods along, hanging on every word.

Zhenya weaves his way through a family waiting in line for cotton candy and steps up to the table. Vero greets him with a bright smile. Sid doesn’t even look up at him.

“Geno,” Vero says warmly. “You came. Sid said you were feeling under the weather and couldn’t make it.” She shoots a sidelong glance at Sid before turning her attention back on Zhenya. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Much better,” Zhenya says and Vero smiles.

“This is Estelle,” she says as she places her hand on the top of her daughter’s head and turns it away from Sid and toward Zhenya. “Say hi, please.”

Estelle waves, looking shy and unsure until Zhenya waves back and she smiles. Vero pats her head and pulls her hand away. “Marc and Scarlett are around here somewhere,” she says as she peers around Zhenya and scans the crowd. “But I know you’ve already met Marc.”

“Few times,” Zhenya says. “He’s nice.”

Both Vero and Sid rolls their eyes.

“Now you’re being nice,” Vero tells him. “I know he and Kris gave you a hard time.”

“Was no big deal. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“That’s good. You’re going to need that kind of attitude if you’re going to be friends with those two.” She gives him another smile then gestures to the baskets on the table. “Would you like to bid on something?”

Zhenya steps back and looks them over. There’s a basket full of pastries from the bakery and sporting equipment from Cullen & Sons and one filled with wine bottles and gift certificates from Dumo’s. His eyes settle on the oversized basket stuffed with dog supplies. Treats and toys and food samples, along with a matching collar and leash set.

“How much?” he says as he points at the basket.

“Current bid on that basket is ...” Vero pauses and flips through the small notebook in front of her. “Twenty-five dollars. If you want to make a counter bid, you just have to fill this out.” She slides across the table a pen and a form asking for his name, number and bid amount. Zhenya glances over at Sid, who is still looking elsewhere, then fills it out and slides it back to Vero.

Vero’s eyes widen and her jaw drops when she looks at the bid he’s written down. She’s silent long enough that Sid leans over Estelle to read it and frowns.

“You don’t even have a dog,” Sid says. “Why would you bid that much?”

Zhenya shrugs. “I give to Timmy. All things he likes, yes?”

Before Sid can answer they’re interrupted by Flower and Tanger, each with a child in tow. Flower is holding a little girl on his hip with a pumpkin painted on her cheek and Tanger is holding the hand of a young boy with wide, brown eyes and a knit hat pulled down low over his ears.

“Geno,” Flower says as he bounces his daughter up to get a better hold on her. “Glad you could make it. Sid said you were sick.”

“Feeling better,” Zhenya says and Tanger makes a disbelieving noise.

“Sid made it sound like you had one foot in the grave.”

“Well he’s feeling better and he’s here,” Vero says, her voice calm but her eyes full of fire as she gives her husband and Tanger a deadly look. “And I’m glad he is, he just made a very generous bid.”

Flower leans over to get a look at the paper and whistles low, which makes Tanger shove his way closer.

“Whoa, Mr. Moneybags,” Flower says and Tanger rolls his eyes.

“It’s impressive but your salary _is_ public, man,” Tanger says, “you could afford to slap a few more zeros on that.”

“Stop harassing our highest bidder,” Vero warns as she lightly slaps the back of her hand against Flower’s hip. “Just be thankful that he’s helping out the kids, _all of our kids,”_ she says as she points a finger at Tanger. “This is extremely generous, Geno. Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” Zhenya tells her before looking at Sid. “Can we talk, please?”

Sid sighs heavily and finally raises his eyes to meet Zhenya’s.

“Fine,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. “But I can’t be gone long. I have to help Vero.”

“I think I can manage on my own for a bit,” Vero says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Go get some cider or something. Have fun.”

Sid rounds the table and falls into step beside Zhenya. Sid walks with his hands in his pockets and keeps just enough distance between them that their shoulders don’t brush. When they sit down on one of the few empty benches, Zhenya is careful to keep the space between them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Sid asks and Zhenya clears his throat.

“Want to say sorry for the things I said and how I said them. Weren’t true, Sid, didn’t mean them.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Sid says and Zhenya fights the urge to roll his eyes. “You were right.”

“No, Sid — ”

“I wasn’t in the will.”

“Sid — ”

“I’m not family.”

Zhenya reaches out and wraps his hand around Sid’s elbow, touching him for the first time in a week. “Sid, you were family. You see them every day, you have meals together, you help out. You were there for them. I was thousands of miles away. Never visit, barely ever call. I think that’s why I get mad. I see you in that room … is so easy for you. You have no guilt, you know? You were more like grandson than I was. You should have been in will.”

“Geno, that’s not true.”

“But is how I feel. I look at that room and I see her whole life, one I wasn’t there for. I see you in there … just remind me that you were.” He shrugs and slides his hand down Sid’s elbow to his wrist. Slowly, Sid pulls his hand out of his pocket and laces their fingers together. “Hope you can forgive me.”

“I was only trying to help,” Sid explains. “I thought by going in there I would be doing you a favor. If it was too hard for you, I wanted to be able to help.”

“Was maybe a little embarrassed about how I feel. How I handle things, emotions.”

“You don’t ever need to be embarrassed about that. Unfortunately, in my line of work I deal a lot with death and grief. Everyone handles it in a different way. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time with it.”

Zhenya nods. “I know, but I think maybe time is now. Just need a little help.”

“Then I want to help you. I can come over tomorrow, I have the whole day off. Is that okay?”

Zhenya nods again and Sid squeezes his hand.

“Okay,” Sid says. “For now, though, you want to hang out for a little bit? Get some food?”

“Don’t have to get back to Vero?”

Sid shakes his head. “I think she can handle it for a bit. Now, c’mon, Mrs. Diaz makes the best cider and you have to try some kettle corn.”

Zhenya lets Sid lead him around by the hand, stopping for cider and snacks and making small talk with the townspeople. Sid’s cheeks are flushed from the cold and Zhenya is still licking the sugar from the pumpkin doughnut he just ate when the band starts playing something slow and soft and couples begin to make their way to the make-shift dance floor at the front of the stage.

“Come dance,” Zhenya says as he wipes his hands on the back of his pants and Sid shakes his head.

“No, no way.”

“Why not? Is fun.”

None of the couples seems to be taking things too seriously, including Flower and Vero, who are spinning in circles and laughing, each with a child in their arms.

“You worry someone is going to make fun?”

“No,” Sid says, taking a step back as Zhenya steps forward. “I don’t care what people think.”

“Then come on,” Zhenya says as he makes a swipe toward Sid. “Have to work off everything you just made me eat.”

“The doughnuts were your idea,” Sid grumbles as Zhenya grabs him by the front of his coat and hauls him in.

They carve out a spot for themselves on the dance floor and Zhenya laughs at the tense line of Sid’s shoulders.

“Relax,” Zhenya says as he puts his hands on Sid’s shoulders and shakes them. “You make my back hurt just looking at you.” He pulls Sid’s arms around his waist and, even though he rolls his eyes, Sid locks his hands together at the small of Zhenya’s back. “Getting better,” Zhenya tells him with a wide smile that Sid scoffs at before Zhenya cups the back of Sid’s head and draws Sid’s cheek to his shoulder.

Sid melts into the touch with a heavy sigh, going loose and pliant in Zhenya’s arms. Zhenya takes a deep breath. The air smells like cinnamon and snow and Zhenya’s sure he sees a flake start to fall as he rests his cheek on top of Sid’s head.

They sway together, trapped in their own little bubble until the song ends and Sid lifts his head from Zhenya’s shoulder.

“It’s getting cold. Do you want to head back to my place?”

Zhenya nods hard enough to make Sid laugh but, when Zhenya begins to gently push him off the dance floor, Sid pushes back.

“Don’t forget your basket you bid on. I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Is for a good cause. Plus, Timmy will like the toys.”

“He has enough of those. You know how many toys and chew sticks he gets when we go out for farm calls? It seems like someone is always giving him something.”

Zhenya drops a kiss to his cheek. “Can never have too much. Be right back.”

He weaves his way through the thinning crowd to the bidding table. Most of the baskets already have been claimed, but Zhenya’s is still in the middle of the table, directly in front of Tanger, who is keeping an eye on everything with his son fast asleep in his lap.

“You guys headed out?” Tanger asks and Zhenya nods and picks up his basket. “Going back to Sid’s place?”

“Is not your business but — ”

“Hey,” Tanger snaps and Zhenya nearly drops the basket. Tanger sits up straighter, cradling his son's head against his chest to make sure he doesn't wake him. “I was serious about what I said before. Don’t mess with him. Don’t drag him in further and then just take off on him. That’s not fair. It’s obvious he has some sort of feelings for you and I know he’s going to say that he’s fine and he won’t care when you leave but — ”

“Think I love him,” Zhenya interrupts, and it’s Tanger’s turn to look bewildered. “Don’t know,” Zhenya continues with a shrug. “Never been in love like that, never say that to anyone that wasn’t family.” He laughs humorlessly. “Never had much family, so never say a lot. Is new feeling.”

“Then why do you want to leave?” “Don’t know if I do. Have to talk to Sid first, see how he feels. Maybe he doesn't feel the same way.”

Tanger snorts. “I doubt that. When are you going to talk to him?”

“Don’t know. Have to find right time.”

“Maybe before you guys bone tonight.”

“Don’t think so, been a week, miss him lots.”

“Okay,” Tanger says as he rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”

“You bring up. Son is cute,” Zhenya tells him, abruptly changing the subject and Tanger narrows his eyes, like he’s wary of the compliment.

“Thank you,” Tanger says slowly.

Zhenya nods. “Takes after mother,” he tells him, laughing and turning on his heels when Tanger flips him off.

—

Zhenya follows Sid back to his place and parks his rental beside Sid’s truck.

He’ll have to actually buy a car for himself if he stays. Most likely a truck, so he can fit in with the locals.

“Are you coming?” Sid calls and Zhenya pops open the door and hops out. Sid’s already halfway up the stairs so Zhenya has to jog to catch up with him, knocking their shoulders together hard enough that he almost drops the cumbersome basket.

“I just gotta take Timmy out real quick,” Sid says as he unlocks the door. Timmy’s already barking in the other room when Sid gets it open and lets Zhenya in.

“Surprised you didn’t bring him,” Zhenya says as he sets the basket down on the kitchen table and starts to pick through it, finding something Timmy can play with now.

“I didn’t want him to get cold.”

“He is wearing fur coat.”

“Yeah, but he’s still just a baby.” Sid walks into the kitchen cradling Timmy in his arms, not even trying to avoid it when Timmy licks at his face. “We won’t be long.”

“I’ll come with you,” Zhenya says and Sid looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Are you sure? It’s freezing and I think it’s starting to snow.”

Zhenya nods. “Can warm me up later.”

Zhenya picks a ball from the basket that bounces high and squeaks loudly and absolutely drives Timmy crazy in the best way. He and Sid take turns throwing it until Timmy tires himself out and flops to the ground at Sid’s feet.

He has just enough energy to make it back into the house under the promise of treats but he refuses to give up the ball, bringing it into his crate with him instead.

“Night, bud,” Sid says softly as he latches the crate shut. “It’s late,” Sid says when he turns to Zhenya. “Do you want some coffee or tea? Something to drink?”

Zhenya cups Sid’s face in the palm of his hand and kisses him.

“So no drink then,” Sid whispers as they part. Zhenya smiles and kisses him again before tugging him toward the stairs.

—

Sid’s bedroom is lit only by the moonlight that pours through the windows.

Zhenya watches the glow of it dance across Sid’s body as Sid stands at the foot of the bed and slowly undresses. Any semblance of a tan is long gone now, lost to long sleeves and cooler weather, but Sid’s skin still tastes warm and bright when Zhenya presses his lips to the curve of Sid’s shoulder.

Zhenya drags his lips up to the side of Sid’s neck, his hands wandering across Sid’s back as Sid settles over him, knees on either side of his hips.

“Want you,” Zhenya mumbles as he scrapes his teeth against the thin skin over Sid’s pulse and Sid gasps and drops more of his weight across Zhenya’s lap, rolling his hips down and making Zhenya’s breath stutter in his chest.

“Fuck,” Zhenya sighs, toes curling against the bedspread and nails lightly scratching across Sid’s back. “How, Sid? What you want?”

Sid leans back and gathers Zhenya’s face in his hands. He kisses him, slow and thorough, nipping gently at Zhenya’s bottom lip as his hands slide down to the hem of Zhenya’s shirt. He pulls it over Zhenya’s head then drops it to the floor beside the bed before pushing him back on the bed.

Zhenya reaches for him, desperate to keep their connection as Sid undoes his belt and jeans, pulling down the zipper torturously slowly and making Zhenya’s fingers curl around Sid’s knees. Zhenya lifts his hips and lets Sid pull his jeans and boxers off his body. He lets go of him momentarily so Sid can lean over and grab the lube and a condom.

Zhenya drops his head back against the pillow and closes his eyes. He lets his thighs fall open and he readies himself for the sensation of the cold lube on his overheated skin when Sid begins to work him open.

But the feeling never comes. When he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see Sid straddling one of his thighs with his arm bent around his back, chin tipped up and mouth slack as he pumps two fingers in and out of his body.

Zhenya runs his hands up Sid’s thighs then sits up and presses his face to the base of Sid’s neck, breathing in sweat and soap as Sid whines softly above him.

“Can help,” Zhenya says, lips still dragging across Sid’s skin as he reaches around and bumps Sid’s wrist with his fingertips. “Need help?”

“No, no,” Sid breathes out. “I’m almost there, I’m almost done.”

“Don’t rush,” Zhenya says. He touches the small of Sid’s back and drags him impossibly closer. “Have time.”

Sid breathes out heavily through his nose as Zhenya presses kiss after kiss to the base of his throat and the tops of his shoulders while his fingers flex in the meat of his ass.

Sid threads his free hand through Zhenya’s hair and pulls his head back so he can kiss him properly. He hums against Zhenya’s lips then pulls back. He plants his hand in the middle of Zhenya’s chest and pushes him back and Zhenya makes a disappointed noise when Sid doesn’t follow.

Instead, Sid grabs the condom and tears it open and Zhenya has to take several deep, calming breaths as Sid rolls it onto his cock.

“Are you ready?” Sid asks as he sets his hands on Zhenya’s shoulders and lifts himself up.

Zhenya nods, every nerve in his body lighting up as Sid takes him in his hand and lines him up then slowly sinks down, inch by inch.

Zhenya has to close his eyes. He has to count to 10. He has to force himself not to thrust up into Sid’s warmth before Sid’s ready for it.

Eventually, Sid’s fully seated, ass pressed flush to Zhenya’s thighs, and he rolls his hips, making Zhenya’s eyes fly open.

“Sid, fuck.” His hands dart out to hold Sid’s hips, keeping him still, and Sid whines.

“You have to move, I need you to move.”

Sid’s body is already flushed, a soft pink that starts at the top of his cheeks and extends all the way down to his chest. His abs are pulled tight with tension and there’s sweat dotting his forehead, making his hair curl. He’s a mess but he’s beautiful and this is as close to him as Zhenya could possibly get but still, he wants to get so much closer. He wants to breathe the same air and share the same skin. There’s no way he’ll ever be close enough.

“Geno, c’mon,” Sid begs. “Move. Fuck me.”

Zhenya shuts his eyes again. He’s not going to last long.

“Come on,” Sid begs again, slowly lifting up and falling back down and Zhenya’s fingertips dig into Sid’s skin hard enough to leave bruises as he flips them in one swift motion. Sid ends up on his back beneath Zhenya, chest heaving as he catches his breath, eyes wide and lips parted.

Zhenya hikes Sid’s leg up, hand tucked behind Sid’s knee so he can slide deeper into Sid’s body.

It’s all white-hot heat as he drops his forehead to Sid’s shoulder and starts to roll his hips.

Sid’s breath comes out in harsh pants as he wraps his arms around Zhenya, holding on tight and digging his nails into Zhenya’s skin when Zhenya hits just the right spot.

“Fuck, right there,” Sid gasps, head thrown back so Zhenya can start to suck a mark into his neck. “God, you’re so — ” He breaks off into a moan as Zhenya pulls Sid’s leg up and over his shoulder, nearly bending him in half. Sid’s leaking cock is trapped between their bodies, sweat helping to ease the way as Sid meets Zhenya thrust for thrust, grinding it against Zhenya’s abdomen.

Sid moans Zhenya’s name and tightens his arms around his shoulders. “Close,” he says. “I’m so close.”

Zhenya watches Sid’s head fall back on the pillow and his eyes flutter shut. Zhenya kisses the pretty pink color high on both cheeks then covers Sid’s lips with his own. They kiss until Sid’s groaning into Zhenya’s mouth and coming between them.

Sid breaks the kiss with a wrecked sob bubbling up from his throat and Zhenya starts to move back and pull out, worried that Sid’s too sensitive now, but Sid drops his leg from Zhenya’s shoulder and hooks it around his back.

His heel digs into the small of Zhenya’s back as he shakes his head.

“Stay,” he mumbles. He sounds sleepy and spent but his eyes are bright and the pressure he’s applying to Zhenya’s lower back is strong and consistent. “Come in me. I want to feel you.”

Sid strokes Zhenya’s back as Zhenya plants his hands on either side of Sid’s head, giving him more leverage and more control as he snaps his hips against Sid’s.

Sid grunts softly with each thrust and Zhenya can feel himself getting closer and closer with every soft sound that falls from Sid’s lips.

“Come on,” Sid whispers as he strokes Zhenya’s sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “Come on, baby.”

Zhenya buries his face in Sid’s neck and presses his open mouth to the sweat-slicked skin there as he comes, moaning into Sid’s neck as his fingers twist in the sheets beside his head.

Sid strokes his back and brushes kiss after kiss to his temple. He holds Zhenya’s weight when his arms give out and he collapses down on Sid’s body, not caring about the mess between them.

“M’heavy,” Zhenya mumbles when he feels like he’s finally caught his breath enough to attempt to communicate.

“You’re fine,” Sid tells him, still running his hand lightly up and down Zhenya back. “You’re good.”

Still, Zhenya pulls out and rolls off him. Sid rolls the other way and hangs off the side of the bed for a moment. When he rolls back, he’s holding one of their shirts and he dabs at his stomach before he drops it back onto the floor.

“Should shower,” Zhenya says, making no actual move to get up.

Sid just hums in response. “In a minute. I gotta lie here for a second.”

Zhenya laughs softly and reaches out to cover Sid’s chest with his hand. “Not want to fight ever again.”

“I don’t know. The make-up sex was pretty good.” Zhenya moves his hand directly over Sid’s heart. It pounds against his palm.

“Can help me with room,” he says and Sid looks over at him. “Going to need help, I think. A lot to do by myself.”

“Of course,” Sid says softly. “You know, if you don’t want to do it, I could — ”

“No,” Zhenya interrupts. “Have to do it. Have to be in there. I think is good for me. Is like finally saying goodbye.”

Sid rolls to his side to look at him straight on. “You know you don’t have to say goodbye. It’s not like cleaning out this room means you have to move on or whatever you’re feeling has to suddenly end. It’s okay to hold onto her for a little while longer or for as long as you need. There’s no timetable for this. There’s no chapter that you need to close.”

“For taking care of patients who don’t know what you say, you have very good bedside manner.”

Sid laughs, their foreheads and noses bumping against each other until Zhenya puts a steady hand on the side of Sid’s face and kisses him.

“Thank you,” Zhenya says when they pull apart. Even in the dim light of the room he can see the confusion on Sid’s face.

“I haven’t really done anything yet.”

Zhenya strokes Sid’s cheek with his thumb and leans in to kiss his forehead.

Sid really has no idea how wrong he is.

—

In the morning, Zhenya eats breakfast with his feet in Sid’s lap while Sid absentmindedly circles the knob of Zhenay’s ankle with his thumb.

It’s lazy and comfortable and easy and Zhenya spends more time sneaking looks at Sid than he does actually eating his pancakes.

He wants this for as long as he can have it. Forever, if Sid will let him.

“Is there something wrong with your pancakes?” Sid asks, not looking up from the stack of patient files he’s been leafing through. “You’re not eating.”

Zhenya pokes at the pancake with his fork. It’s soaked through with butter and maple syrup. It’s delicious, like they always are when Sid makes them.

“Want to have dinner with me tonight?” Zhenya asks and Sid finally looks up at him. “After we clean room.”

“Sure,” Sid says as he looks back down at the paperwork. “Do you want pizza or sandwiches or do you want to try something else?”

Zhenya puts down his fork and leans forward so he can cover Sid’s hand with his own. “No. You want to go into town? Brian say whenever I want table at Dumo’s I can have it.”

“Oh,” Sid says. “You want to have _dinner_ dinner. Are you sure?”

He rubs his thumb in small circles across the back of Sid’s hand. “Of course I’m sure. Good food, good company … going to be a long day. Would be good to have something nice to look forward to.”

Sid seems to study him carefully before he nods. “Okay,” he says slowly. “It has been a while since I’ve been to Dumo’s.”

“Will be fun,” Zhenya assures with a smile.

He leaves his hand over Sid’s as he finishes the rest of his pancakes.

The mood in Irina’s room is heavy from the moment they walk in.

Sid lays a supportive hand on Zhenya’s back and asks him where he wants to start.

“I think maybe closet,” Zhenya answers. “Might be easiest.”

Together they sort through the clothing that Sid has already boxed up, Zhenya agreeing to donate most of it. Anton was smaller than Zhenya and all of his shirts are too short in the sleeves and too narrow in the chest. Still, Zhenya pulls aside two well-worn flannels and puts them in the _keep_ pile. He also keep a few of Irina’s aprons and her wedding dress. The satin and lace have begun to yellow with time and, compared to today’s fashion, it’s woefully out of date, but it’s still beautiful to Zhenya. He’s not sure what he’s going to do with it, but he can’t imagine parting with it. He also keeps a few of Anton’s ties and all of Irina’s good jewelry. Maybe someday he’ll have a daughter to pass it on to.

There are ceramic figurines, like the ones Zhenya found downstairs, that they wrap carefully in bubble wrap and box up to be donated and books about horses and farming and gardening. There are a few photo albums with more recent pictures in them and Sid sits on the bed beside him and points out friends of theirs and explains what was going on when the photo was taken.

He gives those to Sid, who seems reluctant to take them.

“Your memories, too,” Zhenya tells him. “Should keep. Anything you want,” he says as he gestures to the room. “Just say. Is yours.”

Sid takes a few vintage books about horses and farming, then leaves Zhenya to look through the rest of the books on the shelf while he busies himself with pulling winter hats and scarves out of the bin from beneath the bed.

Zhenya sorts through the novels and autobiographies before he gets stuck on the books about honeybees.

There are books about their biology and the different types, books about how to raise them and a cookbook completely dedicated to recipes about honey.

“Find something good?” Sid asks and Zhenya glances over his shoulder. Sid has the bed filled with winter wear.

“Books about bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes. She always want them.”

“I never heard her mention that.”

“I don’t think Anton wanted it. Probably only thing he ever say no to.”

With the bed full, Zhenya slides down to the floor beside it and rests his back against the frame so he can flip through the pages.

“She always say she wants to raise bees and collect honey. Wanted to sell it at farmers markets. I think is one thing she wanted to do but never did.” He flips the page and a piece of white, lined paper falls out.

When he unfolds it, he immediately recognizes his own handwriting from when he was young, blocky and unrefined with plenty of spelling mistakes.

“Oh,” he says softly as he finds more and more until he’s holding a stack of them and rereading the words he wrote a lifetime ago.

“Geno?” Sid asks. “Are you okay?”

Geno nods but he can feel his eyes watering. “Am fine,” he says as he holds up the paper. “She saved my letters. Every one. They all here.”

Slowly, Sid sits down beside him, stretching his legs out and pressing their shoulders together.

“They meant a lot to her,” Sid says softly. “You meant a lot to her.”

“I never kept hers.” Zhenya’s visions swims and he quickly wipes at his eyes. It does little to hide the tears. “I don’t have the ones she wrote to me. I should have kept them.” He tilts his head back on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling. He threw the letters away or lost them, he can’t remember which it is, and she kept them, carefully tucked into her books for decades. “How awful I am.”

“Come on,” Sid says, gently jostling Zhenya’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t blame yourself for something that happened when you were a kid.”

“She kept them.”

“She was a grandmother, she kept everything. That’s what they do. My grandma used to keep the wrapping paper that we’d wrap her birthday presents in. It’s a thing.”

Zhenya laughs wetly and wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“How about we call it quits for the day? You can take a shower, I’ll make you some tea, we’ll take a nap. We’ll stay in tonight, watch a movie or something.”

“No, no, want to go out. Is only thing I look forward to all day.”

“Then I guess I can’t say no to that.” Sid bumps their shoulders together. “Still, I think we should take a break.” He gets himself to his feet then holds his hand out for Zhenya to take. “You can hop in the shower and I’ll put the kettle on, after I take these boxes down to the truck.”

“Leave them,” Zhenya says as Sid pulls him up. He’s officially done with the room for the day and would like nothing more than to physically close the door on it. “I worry about later.”

Zhenya starts the shower while Sid goes downstairs to start the tea.

He’s just begun to work the shampoo into his hair when he hears the bathroom door open wider and Sid’s familiar footsteps against the floor.

Zhenya pulls back the curtain and finds Sid with his shirt halfway over his head. He drops it by his feet then looks at Zhenya.

“The tea is steeping. Is this okay?” he asks, hands hovering over the button of his jeans.

Zhenya nods and wipes at the soap that’s threatening to trickle into his eyes so he can watch Sid undress. Then he steps to the side so Sid can join him.

Sid tips his head back beneath the spray while Zhenya continues to lather up his hair. Sid helps him rinse it out then gently pushes Zhenya against the cool tile and kisses him.

“You’re sure this is all right?” Sid asks, hand wandering against Zhenya’s chest.

Zhenya answers by wrapping his arms around Sid’s shoulders and pulling him closer.

Zhenya is warm and sleepy when he crawls into bed. Timmy is already stretched out near the foot of the bed, big enough now to jump up on his own, and Fiona is curled up in a ball next to him while Toby kneads at his back with his front paws. They’ve gotten so comfortable with each other so quickly, a night and day difference from their first interaction.

“I used the last of the chamomile,” Sid says as he rounds the corner into the room holding two mugs of tea. “I’ll replace it.”

Zhenya waves his hand and takes the mug. He takes a deep breath and then a long sip and hums happily. It’s perfect, just the way he likes it. Mrs. Petrov would be impressed.

He quickly finishes his tea, too tired to truly savor it, and sinks down into the pillow. “Going to set an alarm for five,” he says as he sets the clock on his phone. “Give me time to feed animals and get dressed before we go.” He sets the phone down and rolls to his side so he can see Sid. “Think maybe I will drive. You always drive,” Zhenya huffs when he catches Sid’s incredulous look. “Let me drive. Was my idea, I take you out.”

“Okay,” Sid relents. His voice sounds far off and dreamy. He might have been the one to suggest a nap for Zhenya’s benefit but he seems like he’s taking full advantage of it. “Fine, go to sleep now.” With his eyes closed he reaches out blindly to pat at Zhenya’s face but Zhenya intercepts his hand and laces their fingers together.

He tucks their entwined hands beneath his chin and thinks seriously about waking Sid up and telling him everything right here while they’d tucked safely beneath the covers. But Sid looks so peaceful and Zhenya doesn’t have the heart to wake him up and this is a conversation for which they both need to be fully present.

He decides to let Sid drift off and follows shortly after.

Zhenya has been waking up to the sound of his alarm for nearly a decade now. He knows what it sounds like.

That’s why, when it’s a ringing instead of a buzzing that pulls him from sleep, he’s rightfully confused.

He cracks open one eye and sees Sid sitting up in bed with his phone pressed to his ear, nodding.

“I know where that is. I was there a few weeks ago. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Sid gives Zhenya an apologetic smile as he lowers the phone. “That was Jake. There’s a dairy cow on a farm on the other side of town that’s having a hard time breathing. They don’t know what’s wrong with it and Jake’s not sure he’s ready to tackle an emergency call on his own yet. I gotta go.” He runs his fingers through Zhenya’s sleep-mussed hair. “I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll text you when I’m done over there and on my way home. Give you a better idea of when I’ll be ready to go. Then you can pick me up.”

Zhenya nods and picks his head up off the pillow so Sid can kiss him goodbye.

“I’ll see you,” Sid says. “Go back to sleep.”

Zhenya wakes up before his alarm with an undercurrent of nerves coursing through him.

Tonight has to go well — there’s so much riding on it, his whole future.

He tries to work through the nerves by feeding the animals, giving extra treats to the horses before he moves on and puts the chickens away for the night.

He takes another quick shower, just to rinse the smell of the barn off of him. When he gets out, there’s a text from Sid.

_Just leaving now. Pick me up around 7? That’ll give me time to shower and change._

_Cow okay?_ Zhenya texts back, followed by _7 is good._

_She’ll be fine. See you at 7 :)_

Zhenya smiles down at the phone. He’ll have to teach Sid how to use actual emojis at some point.

It feels like the cats are judging him as he sorts through his wardrobe looking for something to wear. Dumo’s doesn’t have a dress code — he checked — but he still wants to look nice. He lays his dress pants out on the bed, shooing off Toby when he decides they’re a perfect place for him to take a nap. They’re the only pair he brought with him, so most of his time is devoted to which shirt to pair with them. He doesn’t have a ton of options. Not wanting to wear the button-down he wore to Irina’s funeral on their first date, all he’s left with are the shirts and sweaters he bought at Cullen & Sons. They’re more functional than fashionable but, after much debate and a slow blink from Fiona that he takes as approval, he settles on a dark red sweater with just a slight v-neck. It’s warm and cozy and designed to get him through the cold Candaian winters, but he’s sure he can make it work for an intimate dinner.

He gets dressed and fiddles with his hair and brushes his teeth twice, just because he didn’t think he was being thorough enough the first time around. He also watches the clock like a hawk, nerves growing with every minute that passes getting him closer to 7 o’clock.

He decides that quarter to 7 is probably close enough and, after saying goodbye to the cats and looking himself over in the mirror one last time, he grabs his keys and heads over to Sid’s.

He goes over in his mind what he’s planning on saying to Sid and when he’s going to say it as he makes the short drive. They’ll probably order wine and appetizers. He figures, once the food comes, he’ll start to explain how he feels. How this house has started to feel like a home and how Sid has become such a big part of his life and how he can’t ever imagine leaving him behind.

After that, it’s really up to Sid.

Zhenya turns off the road and up Sid’s driveway, tapping his fingers against the wheel with nervous energy. The tapping abruptly stops when the house comes into view and Zhenya sees a car parked next to Sid’s truck.

It’s new and looks expensive and clean, nothing like the cars that Zhenya has seen around town. Even his own rental has developed a thin layer of dust from driving up and down the country roads.

Zhenya parks beside it and gives it a cursory glance. There’s a jacket in the backseat and an empty water bottle on the cup holder between the front seats and a Staff of Asclepius sticker in the lower right-hand corner of the back window.

The lights are on in Sid’s house and Zhenya can hear music playing before he even reaches the front steps. He hesitates at the front door, unsure if he should walk in like he’s done dozens of times before when Sid clearly has a guest. He’s still waffling back and forth when the front door suddenly opens and a blond man pokes his head out.

“Hey,” he says through a big smile when he finally focuses on Zhenya, still standing at the bottom of the steps, just out of the light. “I thought I heard a car door. You must be Geno.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Come on in.”

The man disappears back into the house. Slowly, Zhenya follows, closing the door behind him.

“Sid’s upstairs getting ready but he should be down soon. I’m Jack, by the way.” He holds his hand out and Geno stares down at it, trying to remember why that name sounds familiar. “You are Geno, aren’t you? I didn’t just let a stranger into Sid’s home?”

“No, yes! I’m Geno,” Zhenya says as he takes Jack’s hand. He has a firm grip but the exchange doesn’t linger and he lets go of Zhenya’s hand and gestures to follow him into the kitchen.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jack says. “Can I get you something to drink?”

There’s an open wine bottle on the counter with two empty glasses beside it.

“Or maybe not, you’re driving right? Sid says that was a whole big thing with you. But you’re a big guy, a glass of wine won’t do anything.”

“Umm — ”

Thankfully Zhenya is interrupted by the sound of Sid and Timmy coming down the stairs.

“You’re going to trip me if you keep stopping in front of me like that, bud,” he hears Sid say before they both come into view.

“Geno, hey.” Sid steps into his space and kisses his cheek. His hair is still damp and he smells like strong cologne, like he just put it on and it hasn’t had a chance to mellow. “You’re early for once,” he teases. “You met Jack? I told you about him, right?” He raises his eyebrows. “My friend from college?”

Suddenly it clicks, how familiar Jack seems to be in Sid’s home and the sticker on the back of the car. This is Sid’s friend, his hook-up buddy, the one who visits occasionally and who Zhenya accused of being bad in bed. They’re all standing here, in the middle of Sid’s entryway together with Timmy sitting in between them, tail thumping against the hardwood.

“Jack surprised me,” Sid explains. “He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I thought it would be fun to pop in. Although, I don’t think it’s really popping when it takes like, 10 hours to get here, but I don’t mind the drive. Helps me clear my head.”

“You a vet, too, right?” Zhenya asks and Jack nods.

“Yeah, small animals. Less goats and more toy poodles. Also a lot less trekking through mud and cow shit to get to my patients.”

“It’s more rewarding when you have to work for it,” Sid tells him and Zhenya watches them bicker back and forth, taking special notice of Jack.

With his blond hair and blue eyes Jack is his opposite in every way, right down to his nice Midwestern American accent.

“Are you ready to go?” Sid asks and Zhenya starts.

“Oh.” Zhenya eyes Jack again. “Is rude to leave guest.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Jack says with a wave of his hand. “Like Sid said, I just showed up, you two already had plans, it’s fine.”

“See,” Sid says as he lists slightly into Zhenya’s side. “It’s fine.”

“No,” Zhenya says with a shake of his head. “Should stay here with your friend. He came all this way.”

“Seriously you guys,” Jack says. “You should go.”

“Geno,” Sid says. “It’s fine. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. I know you have, too.”

“We can go some other day, is fine. Restaurant will still be there.”

“Geno,” Sid starts but Zhenya is already backing away.

“Is okay, Sid, really, should have fun with your friend tonight. I see you tomorrow maybe. Or whenever. You two should catch up.” He takes another step back. “I let myself out.”

“Geno, wait,” Sid calls but Zhenya walks out of the kitchen, down the hall and straight out of the house.

He’s halfway down the steps before he hears the front door open behind him.

“Geno, wait a second,” Sid calls again. “Let me talk to you.”

Zhenya stops when Sid catches up and slides in front of him.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Sid says. “Jack doesn’t have a problem with us going out. It’s okay. I promise.”

“He’s your fiend, Sid.”

“Yeah, and you’re my — ” Sid cuts himself off and presses his lips together. “At least stay. We can all hang out together. It’ll be fun.”

“Don’t want to be … what is it, third wheel?”

“What? You won’t be. How could you be? If anything it’s Jack that would … ” Sid trails off and narrows his eyes. Zhenya looks down at his feet. “Geno,” Sid says gently, reaching forward to take hold of Zhenya’s hands. Zhenya pulls them away and slides them into the pockets of his pants. Sid sighs but continues. “I’m not going to sleep with Jack.”

“Why not?” Zhenya asks with a shrug. “Is what you guys do and is obvious that he likes you and you like him — ”

“We’re friends.” Zhenya finally raises his eyes to meet Sid’s.

“So are we. Don’t have to sleep with Jack, Sid, but if it’s what you want ...” He shrugs again. “I can’t stop you. Shouldn’t worry about me.”

“So what? You’d be okay if I slept with someone else?”

 _No,_ Zhenya thinks, _it would kill me_. But it’s terrifying to speak the truth when there’s a chance that the truth that comes back to him will hurt.

“Always said this was causal. Is okay if it’s casual with him, too. If you want.”

“If I want?” Sid repeats and Zhenya nods. “Fine,” Sid says with a sharp nod of his own head. “If that’s how it is then fine.” He steps around Zhenya and takes the porch steps two at a time. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

Zhenya doesn’t get a chance to respond because Sid has slammed the door shut behind him, ending the conversation.

Zhenya takes a breath of cool air, deep enough that his lungs begin to ache. This is for the best, he tries to tell himself. At least now he knows where they stand and it’s better that it happened here, on the dark quiet of Sid’s front lawn than in a crowded restaurant. They’d surely be the talk of the town and, if Zhenya is going to leave, he’d like to do so without rumors swirling around him.

He gets into the car and sits there, watching Jack and Sid’s shadows as they move from room to room within the house. He feels a little lost and alone, the same way he felt when his mother died and he didn’t have anyone to turn to.

Back then, he took comfort in an outrageously expensive bottle of whiskey and woke up with a hangover that, while severe, was a welcome distraction from the sharp pain in his heart.

He doubts that in a small town like this he could find that kind of quality liquor, but he knows where to start looking.

The parking lot at Nick’s is half-empty, typical for a Sunday night. Zhenya imagines that most people are home with their families, tucking their kids into bed or getting ready for the upcoming work week.

But Zhenya doesn’t have any family and he doesn't have any obligations to prepare for, so he throws the car in park and climbs out.

It’s easy for him to find an open space at the bar and even easier to down his first drink in one go. He raises his hand for another before he even sets the glass back down on the bar.

He feels good, the familiar buzz of alcohol working its way through his system, numbing his senses and making everything feel pleasantly foggy around the edges.

Some 45 minutes and four drinks later, he’s slumped over and drafting his sixth email to his bosses, letting them know he’s ready to come back to work. He’ll edit them when he’s sober and, if he needs to, send the best one out.

“Drinking alone on a Sunday night, not a good look.”

Zhenya straightens up with a groan and Tanger cocks his head to the side.

“You look like you’re going to hurl. Seriously, drinking alone can be a problem.”

“You alone.”

“No, I’m out with Flower and the girls. We were on a double date and decided to stop in for a drink before we went home to relieve the babysitters. They all wanted to come over to check on you but I convinced them that would be a little overwhelming.” Tanger pulls out the stool and sits beside him. “So, what’s up? Usually you and Sid are attached at the hip. I’m surprised you didn’t have plans tonight, you know, since it’s his day off and everything.”

Zhenya looks down at his hand and rubs his thumb over the scar on his palm, thinking of the way Sid had kissed it when he helped change the bandage for the last time. _“Good as new,”_ Sid has said, then pressed a barely there kiss to the jagged little scar. “Had plans,” Zhenya says, “but ...”

“What? He stand you up or something?”

“No. Jack is here.”

Tanger scrunches his face up. “Jack? What the hell? What’s he doing here? He usually doesn’t show up until December. Actually, I didn’t think he’d be coming at all this year since … you know.” He gestures toward Zhenya and Zhenya downs what’s left of his drink before calling for another. “Why is he here?”

“He just show up. Said he switched vacation with someone at work. Drive all the way up here to see Sid.”

“And Sid bailed on plans with you to hang out with him?”

“No,” Zhenya admits slowly. “I tell him he should stay.”

“Well that was dumb.”

“Was not,” Zhenya defends. “I don’t tell him he should stay, I say if he wants to stay, he should. And he stayed. And I am here.” He rocks his empty glass back and forth on the bartop. “Thinking about going home. Back to Russia.”

“What the hell happened to ‘I think I love him’?” Tanger says, putting on a truly terrible Russian accent. Zhenya rolls his eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement fails to sit well with the alcohol in his system.

“Sid made his choice.”

“It sounds like you kind of made it for him. Plus, Sid and Jack are friends.”

“Yes, they are friends like me and Sid are friends. We’re all just friends. All we’ve ever been.”

“Yeah, but you feel like there’s more there.”

“Doesn’t mean Sid does.”

“Maybe, but you won’t know if you don’t tell him and ask how he feels.”

“Why would I do that? He’s back at his place having sex with Jack. Pretty obvious how he feels.”

“There’s no way that’s happening. Sid would never sleep with someone else while the two of you are together.”

“We not together. Just friends, remember?”

“Look,” Tanger says after a heavy sigh. “I don’t know exactly how Sid feels about you. I doubt he’d ever really tell me and, honestly, sometimes I don’t think he would even tell himself, but I’ve seen the way he acts around Jack and I’ve seen the way he acts around you. There’s a difference there that you can’t see. I think you owe it to yourself and to Sid to be honest. If it works out, then that’s great. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried. You shouldn’t miss out on something just because of bad timing. You know what I’m saying?”

Zhenya nods then shakes his head. “Am too drunk for this conversation.”

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” Tanger says as he pats Zhenya’s back. “How about I take you home?”

“But my car.”

“You ride with Cath and I’ll drive your car.”

“Is a rental,” Zhenya says as he slides off the bar stool, wobbling a bit and counting on Tanger to steady him. “Only has my name on paperwork. Can’t drive.”

“We just won’t tell anyone.”

“But is illegal.” “I’ll arrest myself,” Tanger says as he herds Zhenya toward the door.

Zhenya dozes off in the front seat of Cath and Tanger’s SUV on the ride back to Irina’s, waking up a split second before Tanger opens the door from the outside, managing to catch himself right before he spills out onto the gravel.

“Get some rest, Geno,” Cath calls out to him as Zhenya waves and thanks her for the ride.

Tanger walks Zhenya up to the front steps and easily slides the house key in the lock, something Zhenya probably would have needed at least a dozen tries to accomplish.

“You going to be okay from here or do you want me to I don’t know, tuck you in or something?” “Am fine, you already do too much for me. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem and, hey, think about what I said.”

Zhenya narrows his eyes. “What you say?”

“Are you serious? That whole speech I gave you back at the bar about being honest … you seriously don’t remember? I can’t believe — ” He stops short when he catches Zhenya’s amused smile and Tanger pushes him through the open door. “You’re a douchebag. Sleep on your side so you don’t choke on your own vomit. Or do, whatever, I don’t care.”

“Thank you Officer Letang,” Zhenya says with an exaggerated wave, the movement of which end up being too big and knocks him a bit off balance as he stumbles into the door.

Tanger laughs as he jogs back to his and Cath’s car.

—

In the morning Zhenya hits the snooze button five times before Fiona climbs on top of his chest and presses all her weight down on one foot.

“Fine, fine,” Zhenya says as he gently pushes her away and climbs out of bed.

He hasn’t been hungover like this since college. He doesn’t miss it.

The cats twirl around his feet as he stumbles around the kitchen, starting the kettle on the stove for tea before he fills their bowls.

He has two cups before pulling on extra layers so he can head out to the barn to continue his chores.

The horses seem annoyed with him for taking so long and most of them stick their heads into their grain bucket without giving Zhenya a second glance.

When he gets to Magic’s stall, Zhenya finds him still lying down on the fresh shavings he spread out for him last night. When Zhenya pours the grain into the bucket he still doesn’t stand.

“You that mad at me?” Zhenya asks. “Going on hunger strike? You eat when I’m not looking.” Zhenya slides the stall door shut and drops the scoop back into the grain barrel. “Everyone eat,” he calls. “Be back soon.”

The chickens seems annoyed as well, flapping their wings at him when Zhenya opens the door of the coop.

“Okay! All right!” Zhenya shouts, protecting his face as the last hen flaps her way out. “Won’t do it again. Maybe won’t get chance to. Could be leaving soon, don’t know. Maybe new owner always up on time, never hungover.”

He spreads out the feed for them and gives them fresh water then goes back to the barn to set up the hay and let the horses out.

He walks down the aisle, opening the stall doors. One by one the horses all file out, except for Magic, who is still lying down.

“You sleepy, too?” Zhenya asks, stepping into the stall. Magic lifts his head but doesn’t make any movement to get up. When Zhenya looks into his feed bucket all the grain is still there. “Not like you,” he says quietly as Magic lays his head back down so he’s fully down on his side.

He’s seen this before while thumbing through an old equestrian book of Irina’s. He learned that leg injuries can be deadly and that horses won’t stop eating when they’re full and that horses lying down like this could be a cause for concern.

Back in the house he quickly google's _pony lying down not eating._ The first result that pops up is about colic and Zhenya quickly skims the article. He gets as far as _may result in death_ and immediately calls Sid.

Zhenya practically burns a circles in the refinished hardwood as he paces around the kitchen table while the phone rings. Sid finally picks up with a short, “Geno I’m kind of busy so — ”

“Magic is sick,” Zhenya rushes out. “He sick. He is lying down and not eating. Won’t get up. Is not normal. You know is not normal. What do I do?”

“Calm down,” Sid says slowly. “Take a deep breath, G, and tell me what’s going on.”

“I went to feed horses and everyone else eat but when I get to Magic’s stall he is lying down. I think, maybe he just tired or upset I take so long to feed. But when I come back from feeding chickens, there is still food and he is still down. Won’t get up. Won’t eat. He sick.”

“Okay,” Sid says and Zhenya hears a car door shut on Sid’s end. “It’s going to be okay. Does he look like he’s in any pain? Is he just lying down or is he rolling?”

“I leave him in stall, I’m in kitchen. Hold on.”

Zhenya keeps the phone pressed to his ear as he darts out of the house and into the barn. Magic is up but he’s walking in tight circles, alternating between pawing at the ground and reaching back to nip at his side.

“He’s up,” Zhenya tells Sid. “But he doesn’t look okay. Keeps trying to bite himself.” “Okay,” Sid says, still calm as ever. “I want you to get his halter on him and take him outside. Start walking him, nice and easy, don’t push too hard. Don’t let him eat or drink anything.”

“He not hungry, Sid.”

“He might be. Things can change pretty fast. Just keep him moving until I get there.”

“How long until you here?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes at the most.”

“Sid, too long.”

“It’s not, you can do this. Just hang on, okay? I’m going to be there as soon as I can. It’s going to be okay.”

Zhenya squeezes his eyes shut and nods. Sid sounds so sure. “Okay,” he finally says. “See you soon.”

Zhenya wrestles the halter onto Magic and brings him outside. Together they walk in a wide loop around the upper pasture, the other horses only lifting their head from the hay to look at them as they walk.

Magic keeps pulling at the lead rope, trying to bite at his side but Zhenya keeps his head as steady as he can, stroking his neck and telling him that everything will be okay.

“Sid said it,” Zhenya tells him softly. “So it must be true.”

Finally, after what feels like the 100th loop, Sid’s work truck rumbles up the drive and comes to a stop in front of the barn.

Sid looks serious when he gets out, Timmy following on his heels behind him, and heads back to unlock the mobile clinic that’s built into the bed of his truck. Zhenya keeps walking Magic as Sid pulls together what he needs, packing everything into a plastic caddy before bringing it over to the edge of the fence.

He tells Timmy to stay then climbs through, giving Magic a soft “hey, buddy,” as he brushes Magic’s mane out of his face. Sid gives him a quick once over, scratching at Magic’s forehead the whole time. “Did he seem okay last night?” Sid asks, leaning over to pull a stethoscope out of the caddy and fitting it around his neck.

“He was fine,” Zhenya tells him, hands wringing nervously in the lead rope. He was fine. He seemed completely normal. “He ate, no problem. Was just like always.”

“He eat anything new lately? You didn’t get a new batch of hay or a new bag of grain?”

“No, no. Same hay, same grain. Nothing new, I don’t think. Last week I gave him an apple that looked a little funny but besides that … nothing.”

“It would have happened in the last few days,” Sid says as he puts the ear tips of the stethoscope into place and presses the diaphragm against Magic’s side.

“Then don’t know what,” Zhenya says, panic rising. If they don’t know what caused this, how do they fix it? “All the food is the same as other horses and all the other horses are fine. Will they get sick too? What if they all get sick.”

“Geno,” Sid says, letting go of the diaphragm so he can reach over Magic’s back and take a hold of Zhenya’s hand. “Take a deep breath. Try to calm down and try not to talk for just a couple seconds so I can listen, okay?” Zhenya opens his mouth to respond then snaps it shut and nods his head and Sid squeezes his hand before picking up the diaphragm again.

Sid moves it slowly around Magic’s side, mouth pulled into a tight frown as he switches places with Zhenya and gets the opposite side.

“I’m not hearing anything,” Sid says as he removes the ear tips from his ears.

“Is that bad?” Zhenya asks and Sid makes a noncommittal noise as he moves on to take Magic’s temperature and then his pulse.

“You usually hear some gut noises,” Sid says, frowning even harder down at his watch as he pulls his hand away from Magic’s jaw.

“So is bad,” Zhenya says, answering his own question and feeling tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t want it to end like this, losing Magic and Sid in one swift blow.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Sid tells him. “This can be very serious, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure he pulls through this. We’re not in panic mode right now, okay?”

Zhenya nods and sniffs, trying to keep the tears back but when the first one falls, Sid is there, pulling Zhenya into his arms and tugging him down to kiss his cheek. It’s like last night never happened, like there is no Jack just down the road, sleeping off whatever he and Sid got up to last night in Sid’s bed. No matter what Tanger said, Zhenya knows there’s still a chance something happened.

But right now that doesn’t matter. All that matters is Magic and getting him better and Sid’s strong hand on the back of Zhenya’s neck as he squeezes and kisses his other cheek.

“Why don’t you go take a break? Take Timmy for a walk, he would love it. I’m just going to give Magic an exam and see if I can find a blockage and then we’ll go from there. He might just need some fluids. Point is, we won’t know until we know. Go make some tea or have some breakfast. Have you eaten?”

Zhenya shakes his head. He’s not hungry. He doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be hungry.

“Could make some tea,” he says and Sid nods. “You can do everything by yourself?”

“I can manage,” Sid says as his hand slides around to Zhenya’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to bring him into his stall so it’s more manageable. I’ll come and get you if I need your help with something. If not, just come out when you’re ready, okay?”

Zhenya hands over Magic’s lead rope and pets his hand against Magic’s side. “Going to get better,” he tells Magic. “You in the best hands.”

Zhenya takes Timmy inside with him while Sid brings Magic back to his stall.

He doesn’t feel like tea but he goes through the motions of making it anyway. He puts the kettle on the stove and racks his brain, trying to think of what Magic could have gotten into. There was nothing wrong with the grain or hay and there’s nothing new in the field that hasn’t been there before.

Maybe if he had gotten up on time he could have found Magic sooner. Maybe he waited too long to call Sid. If he hadn’t been hungover he would have been out there at the normal, earlier time. He could have called Sid then.

Zhenya sits down heavily at the kitchen table and drops his head into his hands. It’s not long before he feels Timmy’s paw scratching at his leg and, when he looks down, Timmy pushes himself up into Zhenya’s lap.

Timmy is much too big to be a lap dog now but they make it work, with Timmy tucking his legs beneath his body and Zhenya wrapping his arms around Timmy, holding him in place. It’s a little awkward and can’t be all that comfortable for Timmy, but he still seems content to let Zhenya lean forward and bury his face in his fur.

Eventually, Zhenya pulls himself together enough to drink two cups of tea and tries to tell himself that no news from Sid is good news.

If something had gone terribly wrong Sid would have come in and gotten him. He’d want to give him a chance to say goodbye.

Zhenya takes a deep, shuddering breath at the thought then pushes down the waves of anxiousness he feels.

Sid is trying his best and, knowing Sid, that's the absolute best anyone can do.

He takes a shower then makes an extra cup of tea and pours it into a thermos for Sid. When he finally feels like he’s worked up the nerve, he heads back to the barn.

Sid’s back in Magic’s stall, sitting on an overturned milk crate as Magic noses at his empty grain bucket.

“He looks better,” Zhenya says and Sid jumps just a little. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare.”

“It’s okay,” Sid says with a small smile. “I was focused on him, I didn’t hear you come up. Is that for me?” He nods to the thermos and Zhenya hands it over.

“Is he better?”

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Sid says as he takes a sip. “But I think he’s on his way. I couldn’t find any blockage, so I gave him some mineral oil and hopefully that gets things moving again. Now all we can do is wait and see. You want to pull up a crate?”

Zhenya nods and grabs an empty one out of the grain stall. When he comes back he sets it a careful distance away from Sid.

“Did he eat?”

Sid shakes his head. “No, I emptied it out. I don’t want him eating until we know for sure he’s going to be okay.”

“How did this happen?”

Sid shrugs. “Sometimes it just happens and there isn’t a clear reason for it. Geno, this isn’t your fault.”

“Who says I think — ”

“I know you and I know how worried you are. You didn’t do anything wrong here. Actually, you might have saved him by calling me so quickly. You did a good job.”

“All I do is panic,” Zhenya tells him. “Sorry for taking up so much of your day. Know you have other appointments.”

“This was an emergency, don’t apologize. Jake can make it through our regular appointments. I could probably get Jack to pitch in if I absolutely needed him to.”

Zhenya tenses at Jack’s name and Sid must see it because he heaves a sigh.

“Nothing happened between me and Jack last night, Geno. I swear it.”

“Sorry if I make things awkward for you,” Zhenya says quietly and Sid sighs again then stands up and scoots his milk crate closer to Zhenya. When he sits down again, he covers Zhenya’s hand with his own.

“Nothing was ever going to happen with Jack. I couldn’t do that, not with the way I feel about you.”

Zhenya’s hand twitches beneath Sid’s. “How do you feel about me?” “Like I don’t want you to go back to Russia,” Sid says. “I don’t even want to think about it and I know you’ve always planned on going back and all this was just supposed to be temporary and casual, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I’d like to try for something more. If you want. But I know, I understand if that’s not something you want. This is a small town and you live this big life. It’s different here. I’d be pulling you away from your job and your home — ”

Zhenya laughs wetly and turns his hand over so they’re pressed together, palm to palm. “Last night,” he starts, “was so upset about you and Jack … I thought, you know, you two know each other for such a long time, you’ve been getting together for a long time, of course you care about him and want to be with him. Maybe more than you want to be with me. I thought I was doing you a favor by walking away. Make the choice easy for you if there even was one. I go to the bar, get drunk, write a few emails to my bosses telling them I’m ready to come back — ”

Sid makes a soft wounded noise and Zhenya squeezes his hand.

“Didn’t send,” he says quickly. “Was just in case. I was upset and ready for a way out. Didn’t want to be here if you didn’t want me to be.”

“Geno,” Sid starts, but Zhenya is quick to raise his free hand to quiet him.

“Ran into Tanger — because Tanger is everywhere all the time — and he says I should just be honest with you about how I feel. He said — ”

“Geno,” Sid interrupts, clearly impatient, and Zhenya smiles and brings Sid’s hand up to his lips.

“Love you,” Zhenya says. “Love you and this house and the animals. Can’t ever imagine leaving. What is there to go home to when everything I want is here?”

Now it’s Sid’s turn to laugh and Magic’s ears flick forward toward the sound.

Zhenya kisses the top of Sid’s head. “Been happier here these last few months than I have been in years. This is my home now. Just like it was for Anton and Irina.” Then he thinks about Irina and the one thing she didn’t get to do. “You know anything about bees?” he asks Sid.

Sid shakes his head, smile going soft and warm.

“No.” He picks up Zhenya’s hand and presses a kiss to his palm. “But we can figure it out--together.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my tumblr[here.](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And some super cute art of Sid holding Timmy [right here.](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/post/184683045849/everyone-go-commission-harrimaniac27art-for-a#notes)


End file.
